


Baby, Just Say Yes

by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)



Series: Never Never Never Stop for Anyone (Sheylinsonverse) [5]
Category: One Direction (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Bruises, Comeplay, Dissociation, Dom/sub, Eating Disorders, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Size Kink, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/pseuds/aimmyarrowshigh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_and_ramona/pseuds/spibsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about love and also blowjobs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, Just Say Yes

**Author's Note:**

> **Character/Relationships** : Harry/Louis/George Shelley; references to past Harry/Louis/Nick Grimshaw, bff!George/Ella  
>  **Warnings** : Explicit sexual content (slash [oral sex, penetrative sex, threesome, size!kink, unprotected sex, comeplay, facial, choking, sex toy (internal), overstimulation, rimming, fingering, mention of felching]) and graphic sexual dialogue. Heavy D/s elements (voice command, orgasm control/denial; no impact play, no breathplay). Mentions of past sub!drop. _Discussion of implied active ED_. Dissociation/anxiety/panic state. Probably terrible Britpicking.  
>  **Disclaimer** : We don't own anything. No claim of knowledge or veracity is made towards anyone in the story and no aspersions or claims of character are to be inferred. We have no connection nor permissions from One Direction, X-Factor, Simon Cowell, SyCo Inc., Sony, ITV, or Columbia Records. No libel intended.  
>  **Notes** : If you're enjoying the story, then we absolutely ♥ you!

** Baby, Just Say Yes **

George is starstruck all over again when he looks around and realizes he's actually at an _awards show_. A proper one, with actors and singers and people whose careers he's followed since he was a kid. And now he's here, all dressed up in the middle of all of it.

"Hey," he hears hissed to him, and when he looks around Ella's twisted in her seat, grinning at him. "Have you seen your -- " She cuts herself off to lower her voice. "You know, One Direction, yet?"

George shakes his head, biting his lip. "Harry said they're to win an award tonight, though, so they'll be here."

"A women's award?" Ella asks, laughing. "What, is there another secret you haven't told me?"

"Now that you mention..." George wrinkles his nose. "No, I think it's like an award for being really hot, or something."

"Oh, well, that makes sense," Ella says, and rests her cheek on his arm. "Get me a drink?"

"Have I turned you into a monster?" George asks, settling a hand on top of hers on the back of her seat. "I remember when you were innocent, you know. Those were the days."

"Oh, yes, the days of last week," Ella swoons. She gives him a winning smile. "I'd like to try a red one, please."

George rolls his eyes, but pats her hand and heaves a sigh. "Fine, alright. But if anyone asks, it wasn't me, got it?"

Ella mimes zipping her lips, but immediately opens them again when she turns to slap at Josh's hands because he's trying to stick gum and bits of paper in her hair.

It takes George a moment to stand, his chair pushed close to Ella's for maximum whispering potential, but he manages it after a second of wobbling. More time is necessary to make his way through the mass of other chairs, and he finds himself mumbling apologies almost without breath in between.

There are people all around who _recognize him_ , and that's properly strange. People he has recognized since he was chubby and thirteen, playing guitar in between Pokemon battles, actually recognize him and say hello and _congratulations for Sunday, glad you're through_ and by the time George gets to the bar, his cheeks are flaming, but he has a renewed sense of purpose for the competition.

He will _not_ make a fool of himself in front of this crowd.

George gets Ella her 'red one' but nothing for himself. He knows Louis told him he's only supposed to stay sober during play, but it's probably also good practice to stay sober at awards shows.

He's waiting for the Cosmo -- since it's red and the Cosmo awards, after all -- to make it to him down the crowded bar when a soapy aftershave smell comes up from behind him and a familiar voice is in his ear.

"Well, it's New Harry, is it?"

George jumps a little, but he does recognize the voice, so it's not as startling as it could be. He hears it on the radio most mornings during the week.

"Most people just call me George, actually?" George isn't really sure how he's supposed to speak to Nick Grimshaw now, not when he knows so much and so little about what happened between him and Harry and Louis.

"I'm not most people though, am I, and I quite like 'New Harry.'" Nick doesn't say it in a particularly narcissistic way, even though it's a ridiculous thing to say. He gives George a broad, toothy, crooked smile.

He's very charming, and George has only been talking to him less than a minute. "Not the worst thing I could be called, I guess. Harry's younger than me, though, so if anything he'd be the new me. Then I'd be Old Harry." George wishes he'd stopped talking ages ago.

Nick rolls his eyes. "You talk more like Same As Ever Louis."

"I like Louis." George says it without thinking. There's a lot of people George could be like to warrant an eye-roll, but he doesn't think Louis is one of them. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Nick's smile gleams in the light coming off the back of the bar. "Of course you like Louis. Harry's told me a bit about you, you know."

"Has he? I like Harry, too." George doesn't know what to say. Nick is very tall and very smiley and the way he talks is making George feel -- short, mostly. Very small. "He's told me a bit about you as well."

Nick shakes his head. His quiff flops about a bit, and it's rakishly endearing in a way that George feels a little guilty to Louis for acknowledging. He holds up two fingers to signal the bartender and they start pouring together a cocktail.

"I should get back to Ella; she'll be wondering where I am with her drink," George says, but it sounds weak to his own ears, even.

Nick's hand is as firm as it is light when it lands on George's arm. "Aw, come on, New Harry, stay and chat with me a bit. I only ever get to talk to Old you."

George should probably say no, and not because Ella's waiting for him. He's always been terrible at saying no to people, though, and he can't think how to say no now without being rude, and he doesn't particularly _want_ to be rude to Nick Grimshaw. He doesn't have any reason to be other than Louis' obvious dislike of him, and if George always based his opinions of people on other people's opinions of them, he'd have nobody.

"Alright," he accepts quietly. "Just for a bit."

Nick looks delighted at that, and it makes him seem younger. His drink appears in front of him -- with a matching second glass for George at its side.

He takes it because it seems petty not to, but he fiddles with it in his hands instead of drinking it. If he wanted to make a drunken fool out of himself at an award show, he could do it without Nick's help. "Only if you call me by my name, though," he says after a moment. "If people keep calling me New Harry, I'm going to develop a complex."

Nick seems to think about that for a minute, studying George over his glass. 

"Alright," he decides. "That's fair."

"It's George, by the way, my name," he says, because he's not the only one who can make funny quips. He gives Nick a grin. "Wasn't sure if you remembered."

"Nah, everyone knows Gorgeous George; not everyone's lucky enough to get a nickname like that so easily. The best I ever got was Naff Nick."

George snorts out a laugh, then wonders if it made him look unattractive, then wonders why he's worried about Nick Grimshaw finding him attractive. He's not, he doesn't think, it's just that there's something about Nick -- it reminds him of Louis, actually, but he's not going to dwell on that -- that makes George want to impress him.

"There's also the standard," Nick says, and looks more pleased than someone who runs a comedic radio show should about making one person laugh. "Grimmy. Not _really_ flattering."

"You haven't got a very grim... anything," George concludes. He doesn't know if he's ever seen Nick look anything but pleased, actually. Definitely not during this conversation.

Nick grins and claps George's shoulder, and his hands are bigger than they look. "That's very kind of you, Gorgeous George. Quite a flatterer; I can see why Louis' fond of you."

George is pretty sure he's beaming, clutching his glass tightly in his hands. "Yeah?" he asks because he can't think of anything else to say. He looks down into his glass to try and hide his smile a little. The idea of Louis being fond of him probably shouldn't make him feel this nice.

Nick chuckles lowly. "He's got you good. He does that, doesn't he? He isn't good at being able to turn it off again."

"Turn what off?" George wrangles his smile into something less ridiculous and looks up. "Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

Nick leans in entirely too close for two strangers at a bar and murmurs in George's ear. "Once you go down for Louis, you never really come up, innit?"

George shivers. He's helpless not to, with warm breath on his neck and Nick's words sort of echoing in his head. How much does Nick know? How much has Harry told him? George can't help but feel a little -- hurt, maybe, when he thinks about all the things Harry could have told someone about him, and them.

"I guess not," he mumbles. He feels a little nauseous now.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Nick's hand is comforting on the small of George's back. "Harry's been the same for years, hasn't he?"

"I'm not Harry. I'm just George." There's no comparison, really, and the less George thinks about it the better.

"I'm not saying you are Harry, I'm saying you share certain qualities that are... attractive to both Louis and myself."

George thinks about that, thinks about Harry being so good for Louis when they'd let him watch them, and about how Harry doesn't seem to do anything without looking to Louis first. Really, it's like they've both fallen into Louis, only Harry's there to stay and George imagines eventually he'll have to fall out.

"And yourself?" he asks slowly, his brow furrowing as he processes the end of Nick's sentence.

Nick smiles again. "Believe it or not, there are actually people in the world besides Louis Tomlinson who can give a man what he needs."

"Oh." George isn't stupid; he knows that and he knows what Nick's telling him, but there's a difference between understanding something and knowing how to react to it. "Well, yeah, I guess."

"I'm just putting out there, they'll be gone for the rest of the week and I'll be in London... if you wanted to give something new a try," Nick says, and he isn't smiling at all now, instead looking at George with open, dark eyes.

It's like George's mind grinds to a halt. He can't feel his hands but he knows he hasn't dropped the glass, because he'd be able to hear it since everything's gone all silent. Or maybe that's just in his mind.

He's shaking his head when everything starts again, sounds and his limbs tingling and his tongue feeling too big for his mouth. "No, no, I -- I couldn't, can't, no, I can't. Sorry," he adds on the end after realizing how completely rude, not to mention insane he sounds.

Nick doesn't look upset at this, but his eyes narrow like he's -- concerned? Confused?

"He's done it again, hasn't he," Nick mutters. "Doesn't know how to bring you back up and now you're stuck. George," and it's the first time he's called him by his proper name, "You shouldn't be _scared_ of Louis. That's not alright."

"I'm not scared of him!" George protests, setting his glass on the bar because he's afraid he might actually drop it now. "I just -- I can't, with other people. I'm theirs. I can't."

Nick tilts his head at that and his hair goes flopping with it. "Can't because you don't want, or can't because Louis told you not to want?"

George opens his mouth to respond, except he doesn't really know how to answer. Harry and Louis told him they couldn't be with him if he was being with other people, but he hasn't _wanted_ other people, either. "I don't know," he finally says, and his voice is doing that in and out thing he hates. "Neither."

Nick sighs and considers this, his eyes flicking from George's face to the untouched drink in George's hands to some space far-off behind George's shoulder. "You should give it a try with someone else. See if it's a bit... less."

"But I don't want to try with someone else," George says, his shoulders trying to hunch in on him. "I like Harry and Louis. They give me -- what I need."

"They're not the only people who could," Nick says kindly. "And they're... hard to penetrate, no pun intended. A little pun intended, but really, they're... weird. Together they're weird. They don't really let other people in."

George thinks of their fond looks and the way they can finish each other's sentences, and how they've been whatever they are since long before George. "That's not fair," he replies, frowning. "They've been _whatever_ for a long time."

Nick makes a nasal little sound. "Two years, thereabout. There have been people who've been in the play world longer. It shows they've only tried for two years, how Louis has Harry so spun up." He pauses and gives George a look in the corner of his eye. "Would you believe I'm asking out of concern?"

He could believe it, with Nick's earnest face and his kind voice and the way he hasn't touched George since George said no.

But still: "Not really," he says apologetically. "People aren't concerned about people they don't know. I'm sure you're really nice," he adds because he sounds like a terrible person and he doesn't want that.

Nick grins. "I'm not, actually, but thanks. Would you believe I'm concerned about Harry, then, if Louis splits his focus on you?"

"It's not like that." George shakes his head again, but just a little. He doesn't want to have this conversation. He still feels sick. "Nobody's splitting anything."

Nick hums equivocally through his nose again and takes a sip of his drink.

"You don't know anything," George says. He sounds desperate and he knows it. "You don't know what's going on."

"I know what happened the last two times they tried to include a third person," Nick says, and for the first time, _he_ sounds a little rattled.

"Maybe the third time's the charm, or whatever. You don't know," George repeats. He misses Louis, and Harry, and he wants a hug. "You can't just -- You don't know."

"What's that saying?" Nick asks. "A man who repeats his failures the same way three times is a fool? That's not it, that doesn't sound inspirational at all. But all the same... if Louis is trying again and hasn't fixed himself, then he's a fool."

"How d'you know he hasn't fixed himself?" George challenges. "Maybe he has, already."

Nick levels him with a look, and George wilts a bit as he realizes that Harry has, indeed, told Nick about two weekends ago, how George fell apart. And George isn't sure how he feels about that, as it was -- quite private. Everything he's done with Harry and Louis has felt very private and close to him, but maybe after everything, it's just fodder for them to laugh with Nick Grimshaw and the boys of One Direction.

He shoves that away. He has to; his brain is buzzing and he feels panicky and cold, and it's too similar to how he felt then. "He's good for me," George whispers after a moment, staring at Nick's left shoulder intently. "They both are. Better than anything."

Nick raises his eyebrows. "Is it _them_ , or is it the control they give you? Because you _can_ get that from someone who knows what they're doing. I promise."

Nick pauses. "It doesn't have to be sexual, if that's it. I could just... dominate you a bit."

And he _could_ , is the thing. Harry and Louis said he can't have sex with anyone else but they didn't say anything about this, and Nick obviously knows what he's doing and he's done it before and George _could_ , he could let Nick dominate him. 

"You don't know me," he finally says, lifting his head. His vision's a little swimmy even though he hasn't had anything to drink, and he blinks hard to clear it. "Why would want to do that?"

Nick shrugs. "Because Louis doesn't know what he's doing and I've already seen Old Harry get hurt; I'd feel bad if New Harry did, too."

"You pity me," George sums up. That's never a good reason to let anybody do anything, he learned that a long time ago.

"I don't pity you," Nick says. "I don't pity people. If they can't fix themselves, that's their own problem. I worry about people when other people are doing them wrong, and I think Louis and Harry are doing you wrong."

"So why don't you tell them about it?" George asks as he watches the bits of ice that haven't melted bob in his glass. "Why tell me all this?"

Nick shrugs again, easy and liquid. "I wanted to give you a choice without them bearing down on you."

"I like it when they bear down on me." George's lips twitch into a smile that falls almost immediately. "I don't think so. I'm sorry. Thank you for the offer."

"What offer is that?"

George jumps for the second time in one night, even though he recognizes this voice as well. Louis looks cold, his features all hard like George hasn't ever seen them.

"Hi," he greets softly, taking in Louis' expression and the way he's standing. "I was looking for you."

"Hi, George," Louis says, and the back of his hand brushes over George's knuckles, but his face is still pinched in Nick's direction. "What are you trying to do to George, Grimshaw?"

"Nothing, obviously," Nick says, draining the rest of his glass. He still looks relaxed, and George admires his ability to stay composed. "We're just having a chat. You do know that calling me by my last name just makes you sound like you wish you were in a James Bond film?"

"At least I don't look like one," Louis snorts.

"Right to the heart!" Nick exclaims with a smile on his face. "You've deeply wounded me. I won't be able to get out of bed for at least a month. Louis Tomlinson from One Direction's just insulted me."

Louis smiles blithely. "Can you treat me like an adult and tell me what you and George were talking about? I have to assume it involves me."

"That's because you assume everything involves you, love." Nick's smile relaxes into something that looks less sarcastic, at least to George. "I rather think it's between me and George, don't you? You're not privy to everyone's private conversations."

Louis' lip twitches. "Haven't we learnt that fewer people get hurt if you communicate with me?"

Nick's expression drops, then, so quickly George wonders if his smile was an act the entire time. "Fewer people get hurt when you actually figure out what you're doing with them," Nick says in a quiet voice. "I was just making sure George here understood what he's got into."

" _It's different with him_ ," Louis hisses. "There isn't a meddling p--jealous grown man trying to take over."

"You have no idea what you're doing no matter if you're sleeping with twenty people," Nick responds, his voice calm but his eyes intense on Louis. "You're still the same as you've always been; it's got nothing to do with me."

Louis looks a little murderous at that, and George just wants to fix it. He has an overwhelming need to make this better and he doesn't know _how_ , and everything is beginning to feel a bit spiky. He sets his glass down on the bar and grips the molded edge of the wood tightly, breathing through his nose.

"George?" he hears Louis say, and his voice sounds concerned but George can still hear the anger simmering below it even as Louis' hand presses to his back.

"I told you," Nick mutters. "You don't know how to bring them up again."

"Shut up, you aren't helping," Louis spits, his arm gentle as it curves around George's shoulders in contrast to his words. "George, breathe," he says softly, rubbing George's arm. "It's alright, George, it's okay. Nothing's wrong."

 _Nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong. Nothing is wrong_. George nods, closing his eyes. 

"What's all this?" 

Great, now Harry is here to see George fall apart again. It's only a matter of time before he and Louis decide George is too much of a basket case.

"Ella's never going to get her red drink now," George mumbles.

Louis shushes him. "Ella shouldn't be drinking, anyway," he says in George's ear. "Tell me how you're feeling. Are you bad-fuzzy? What do you need?"

"Don't think so?" George mutters. "I feel like I caused a problem."

"You haven't caused any problems. It's not your fault some people don't know how to stay out of other people's business." Louis' thumb is rubbing little circles on the back of George's neck and it feels quite nice. "None of this is your fault. You haven't done anything wrong. You're so good, George."

George nods, but everything Nick's said has wriggled its way into his mind. Maybe it _is_ bad that he needs Louis' praise to feel good, feel comfortable, lately. Maybe he's not... himself, anymore.

"Look at me," Louis commands, his fingertips beneath George's chin.

George bites his lips and meets Louis' eyes. He has enough awareness left to wonder what people will think about Louis from One Direction touching that Union J boy like this over at the bar, Breakfast Nick Grimshaw looming over them like a sasquatch.

Louis searches George's eyes for a moment before he nods firmly. "I've never liked award shows," he says airily, though his gaze is still a bit dark. "Harry, you talk to -- _him_ \-- and, I don't know, try not to punch him in the face. George and I are going out for some air."

"You could ask him if that's what he wants," Nick says airily. "Unless you really think you have under all the time."

"You've had one conversation with him, Nick, so you'll forgive me if I think I know him a bit better than you." Louis’ lip twitches again as he doesn't look away from George. He looks like he wants to growl, but doesn't. "Would you like to come with me, George? I think we should talk," he finally says, obviously reluctant.

George glances back in the direction of the reception hall where Ella is waiting for her red drink. "Go where?"

"I haven't decided yet. We'll be back," Louis adds. "We just, we really should talk, and I've been putting it off but I don't think I should anymore."

George looks back at Louis and knows his eyes are huge. "Just you?"

"Just me," Louis confirms. He hesitates a little before continuing. "Unless you want Harry there. If that'd make you more comfortable."

"No, that's okay," George says. "I've never talked to just you without Harry there. Not that I mind Harry. I really like Harry, but."

"I really like Harry, too," agrees Louis. "But I really like you as well, and I'd like to talk, just the two of us. Now seems as good a time as any."

George nods, but pauses. "Your award?"

"We get awards all the time." Louis shrugs. "We'll be back in time. You're more important."

George smiles a little at that, even if maybe he shouldn't. "Can someone bring Ella her drink? She wants a red one, so I ordered her a Cosmo and it's disappeared now."

Harry looks a bit sheepish from behind Louis' shoulder. "I did wonder whose that was whilst I was drinking it. I'll bring her another."

"She'll like that. Thank you." George still feels sort of shaky, but he already knows what his answer's going to be. "I'll go with you," he tells Louis, slipping off his stool.

"Thank you," Louis says ingenuously. "We can get coffee."

George perks up at that. He does like coffee.

Louis smiles at him, and it softens his face. George wishes Louis would smile all the time. "We'll have to slip past a lot of people, but I think we can do it."

"I can look inconspicuous when I want," George informs him. "It's an acquired skill of mine."

Louis gives him a lascivious look from head to toe. "Not in that suit, you can't. You're too delicious."

George laughs, but his face has gone red and he feels much warmer inside. "Cheesy," he informs Louis, nudging his hip with the back of his hand.

"Cheesy but true." Louis smirks. "Come on, I'll teach you the proper boy band way to hide in a crowd."

George grins. He feels rude ignoring Nick, though, so he turns a little and takes a moment deciding what to say. "It was nice talking to you," he finally says, though it wasn't really and all it did was make him think about things he didn't want to think about. "You're very. Tall."

Nick laughs at that, though, like everything's been forgiven -- or like he hasn't been upset with George at all, George thinks with a little surprise. "You are even more eloquent than Old Harry, New Harry. I'll have to start mentioning you four times an hour on radio."

"I'll keep an ear out," George replies. The radio's always on in the background while they're getting ready in the morning, so he might as well. "Er, thank you."

Nick nods. "The offer still stands."

Louis' grip on George's elbow tightens, so George just clears his throat. "I'll keep that in mind," he says quietly.

Once they leave the bar, it's kind of fun to duck around corners and run up back corridors with Louis. Sort of like playing spy until they get out of the back doors and onto the cold street.

George can see Louis' breath as he hums thoughtfully, looking up and down the alleyway for a direction to go to find a cafe.

"Aren't you cold?" George asks. Louis is at least dressed almost properly for the weather, all properly styled with the collar of a white button down poking out from an orange jumper.

Louis smiles a little. "I'm always cold. I'm used to it. When I get home I'll pull on one of Harry's big jumpers and drink some tea and I'll be all sorted."

"That sounds nice," says George. Louis looks the type to be cold all the time, little and compact as he is. George can imagine he'd look almost vulnerable swallowed up in Harry's clothes. Louis never looks vulnerable.

Louis gives him a concerned look. "Are _you_ cold?"

"No, I'm alright." He's a bit warm, actually, in his blazer. The only part of him that's cold is his face, and there's no fixing that.

Louis smiles and reaches out to brush his fingers up against the back of George's hand until he gets the hint and twines their fingers together. "Are you hungry? Have you eaten?"

"I'd just like coffee," George murmurs, savoring the feeling of Louis' palm pressed to his. He can't see this happening very often, so he's going to relish it while he can.

"Okay," Louis says slowly. "We can get coffee. But have you eaten?"

"What? Oh, I'm not hungry. I just really want some coffee. I love coffee." George smiles at him.

Louis face darkens and he narrows his eyes a bit. "You're avoiding my question, George. I don't like that at all."

"I'm not, though." George's smile drops. "I'm not. You asked if I was hungry, and I'm not."

"I asked if you've eaten," Louis corrects him, squeezing his hand. "That's not asking if you're hungry. I've lived with Harry and I have four sisters, I know the difference."

"That's a lot of sisters," George mutters, tucking his other hand into his pocket. "I've got a lot of siblings, too."

"I know," Louis murmurs. "I can tell; it's how you've learnt to avoid answering questions you don't like, isn't it? My youngest sisters, the twins, they do that hiding behind each other."

"None of mine are twins. I don't avoid answering questions I don't like, I just misunderstood your question, I guess. Why's it matter?" George asks, the hand in his pocket curling into a fist. "It's not a big deal."

"It's a big deal to me," Louis argues gently. "If I'm to take care of you, I have to know what you need, George. You have to be honest with me if I'm to be honest with you."

"I am honest with you. I've told you everything," says George. He's told Louis about -- about when he was with Jaymi, and about when he needs yellow, and about all the things he needs. "I swear I have."

"You aren't telling me if you've eaten yet today," Louis reminds him. "I'm not going to leave you alone about it until you do."

"You sound like my mum," George huffs. "She's always making sure I've eaten."

Louis raises his eyebrows and waits.

George squeezes Louis' hand tightly. "Not since this morning," he says under his breath. "I'm not hungry, though."

"Right, well," Louis sighs, "I'm a bit peckish, and I'd rather you have some food in you so I can worry a bit less about you keeling over, if I'm honest."

"I'm hardly going to keel over," George laughs, wrinkling his nose. "I'm fine. I can eat later."

Louis bites the inside of his cheek. "If we're being honest with each other, then I have to say: I don't trust you will. You don't take care of yourself very well, George."

"I do," George replies softly. "I do, though. I'm healthier than ever."

"I'm not above _telling you to eat_ ," Louis warns him. "I don't want to, because that -- that sort of proves Nick right, but I'm not above doing it. I'll give Nick one if I have to."

"But I'm just not hungry." George feels abruptly a little like shouting, out of frustration, because Louis is acting like he knows things he doesn't know. "I swear, I'm just not."

Louis is quiet for a long moment, and takes his hand away -- not meanly; he just does, and tucks it into his pocket. "Alright."

George feels cold now, with his hand just dangling out in space, and he doesn't know what to say to make Louis understand that he didn't mean it, whatever it is. "I'm sorry," he tries, but that doesn't sound right. "I will if you want?" 

"No, you're an adult," Louis mutters. "I can't -- always control you. Or everybody. Even I want to, sometimes."

"I like it when you control me," George points out. "I've told you I do."

"I know," Louis says, and he sounds embarrassed, though George can't fathom why. "But... I -- we need to decide if it's really going to be all the time or just sometimes, because otherwise it's not. Right."

"Okay." George looks at him for a minute, weighing out whether the inevitable embarrassment is worth his next question. "Does that mean you can't hold my hand, though?"

Louis smiles at him, although his eyes are still clouded. "No." He takes his hand from his pocket and holds it out again, and when George wraps his palm around it, Louis' fingers have gone cold.

"You look upset," George ventures, squeezing Louis' hand in the vague hope of making it warm again. "Did I upset you?"

Louis shakes his head. "No, I'm just... upset."

"I don't want you to be upset." George steps a little closer, though he doesn't know what that's supposed to solve. "Is there anything I can do?"

Louis gets on tip-toe and kisses George's forehead. "No, and I shouldn't ask you to do anything just now. Not until we talk."

"It's not you asking, though, it's me offering." George can't stop his smile at Louis. "Isn't that different?"

"I don't know yet," Louis admits. He nods his head up the alley to a pool of light. "Come on, I think that's a cafe."

"Coffee," George says happily, a new spring in his step. He does love coffee, he wasn't lying about that.

He doesn't want Louis to be upset with him, but he doesn't like talking about how much he eats. He never has. He doesn't even like thinking about it, if he's honest.

"I'll have a biscuit," he offers. "With my coffee."

"You can do what you like." Louis sort of shrugs. "Have one, don't have one. I'm not going to decide for you."

George frowns a little at that and bites the side of his tongue just enough to sting. "But I like when you decide things for me. I really do."

"I know you do," Louis accepts. "But I don't know yet if it's all the time or just sometimes. We need to talk about that, and then we can figure out everything else."

George nods, and holds the door open for Louis when they find the cafe. It's small and just a little dingy, only one barista with a broom inside and an old man sleeping behind his newspaper at a corner table, but it smells incredible and makes George temporarily homesick all the same.

"How do you take your coffee?" Louis asks gently, a hand on George's lower back propelling him forward even though it's only four steps at the most to reach the counter.

"Very light and very sweet," George requests. "I like vanilla syrup."

Louis nods and repeats that to the barista, tacking his own order for a latte on the end. "You would like it light and sweet, you adorable boy," Louis mutters with a smile. "Did you want that biscuit? I'd like a scone, I think."

George nods a little and twitches his mouth. "Yes, please, or -- I'll take a toastie, if you want."

"No," Louis chides gently. "Not if I want. What you want, George."

George looks a little sheepish as he leans on the counter and asks, "Can I have a ham and cheese toastie, too, please?"

"There you go," Louis says, before hesitating. "Christ, I don't even know what I'm supposed to say now," he mutters, shaking his head as he pulls his wallet out from the back pocket of his trousers.

George feels a little queasy even though he hasn't even eaten yet, and didn't touch that drink Nick Grimshaw bought. "You don't have to say anything. I like toasties."

"No, it's not you, it's me. I keep -- praising you, and I don't know if I should be, when I'm trying to keep you in your head." Louis sighs, shaking his head. "I really am sort of awful at this."

"Everybody likes praise, though," George says. "That's not like a weird -- a thing."

"I don't know what is or isn't a thing with you. That's one of the things we need to talk about, really, actually talk about." Louis leans against the wall beside the counter.

George pulls out a chair so Louis can sit if he wants. "Well, isn't like with Harry, mostly? Harry likes when you praise him, too. Everyone knows that."

"You're not Harry, though. You're George. You and Harry react to things differently." Louis slides into the chair with a grateful look at George, nodding toward the other one at the little table.

George feels a sick little swoop of victory at that -- something he does gives Louis something that Harry can't, and maybe that means he isn't so replaceable in their triad as he'd thought. He should never have let Nick Grimshaw get into his head.

"With Harry it was so easy, and we fell into each other. I know how to be with Harry, what he likes, what he doesn't like. I forget that I don't know you as well, sometimes." Louis swallows. "And you keep getting hurt because of it, and that's not okay."

"That's not true," George protests, and takes both of their coffees from the bar. He sets Louis' down in front of him, then moves around to take his own seat with his latte and toastie. "It was only once."

"It was only once that it got so bad I thought I'd damaged you permanently." Louis raises his eyebrows. "How do you feel right now, George?"

George scowls around his mouthful of ham and cheese. "Fine."

"You don't feel sick at all? Or fuzzy, or uncomfortable?" Louis asks as he tilts his head a little. He doesn't look angry, he just looks sad and a little pensive. "Tell me how you feel."

George glances around the coffee shop, looking intently at anything but Louis. "I just feel like you're angry with me but I don't know what I've done. And I feel like Nick Grimshaw was angry with me, too, but I don't really see what that could be about since I've never spoken to him before."

"Nick wasn't angry with you." Louis snorts delicately, sipping from his coffee. "Nick's hardly ever angry with anyone. And I'm not angry with you, either. I'm angry with -- me, mostly."

"You don't need to be." George chances reaching across the table and resting his hand over Louis' wrist. "Really, you didn't do anything wrong. I don't know why I lost it so bad two weeks ago, but I'm really over it and I've never done that before, so I can't see it happening again."

"I did, though. I did do something wrong, George. I've done a lot of things wrong with you, and I want to fix them. But you need to let me fix them, and stop telling me I haven't done anything wrong, because I have. Okay?" Louis doesn't pull his hand away, but he's looking at George very seriously. "I know you don't want to talk about this. But we have to."

George hesitates before nodding. "And you'll tell me what happened to the others? The ‘me’s -- when you’ve had 'me's before with Harry? Aiden and Nick?"

"Yes, I will. Should've done, a while ago." Louis smiles wryly. "I'm a bit shit at talking to people."

"I don't think you're shit at talking," George offers. "Everyone thinks you're the funny one, and the leader, and you are. Last time Dermot asked me something I think I swallowed half my teeth."

Louis gives him a smile, and he counts it as a victory. "I don't mean talking to reporters, or interviewers; I can do that fine because I don't really have to be myself. I have to be Louis From One Direction. With you, though, I have to be honest, and I have to talk to you and trust you and know you."

George rubs his thumb against the bone of Louis' wrist lightly. "I'm very trustable, if that helps."

"You are, aren't you?" Louis looks down into his coffee, still smiling. "I don't -- trust a lot of people. I can't, really, when our lives are what they are. People will do anything for a scoop."

"Why did you -- come up to me in the first place?" George asks. "I've always wondered how I ended up, you know. When we met?"

"I think you reminded me of Harry." Louis huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "Not like, in how you look, that's all bullshit. It was just the way you were standing, or the expression on your face, I don't know. You looked like you needed us, maybe."

"That's what Nick said, too." George huffs, and he doesn't mean it to come out as a bad thing, but he's -- _sick_ of being treated like Harry Styles 2.0 and then told to be his own person more, whether onstage or in bed. He can either be Harry or he can be George, but he can't be both.

Louis looks back up at him, the corner of his mouth hitched down. "That's why I wanted to go up to you. It's not why I wanted to sleep with you. It's not why I want you around, still. The novelty would've worn off if I just wanted to have sex with two Harrys. I wouldn't have bothered past the first night."

George nods, but he has to crack a little smile. "Wish I could sleep with two Harrys."

"No, you don't, there'd be far too much hair." Louis turns his hand over to stroke lightly over the soft skin of George's wrist, tracing the fragile bones there. "I like you because you're George. Not because I want another Harry."

George doesn't know what to say to that, so he takes too big a gulp of his latte and scalds his tongue. He hates that and loves it equally; it hurts for ages.

"I don't think I've communicated with you as much as I should have, so I'm doing that now." Louis takes a deep breath. "I keep telling you to be honest with me but I don't really give you a chance to ask the same of me, do I?"

George shrugs one shoulder, his tongue sticking out a little to get cool air. "I'th okay."

This earns him a grin from Louis, crinkly eyes and all. "Did you burn yourself? I'd think you'd know better, how much coffee you drink."

George's cheeks color a bit, and Louis chuckles. He glances over both shoulders -- there's no one passing at the windows, the barista is in the back room, and the old man with his paper is still asleep -- so he nips over and quickly kisses George's lips, sloppy with burnt tongue and all.

It helps George relax a little, the tension in his shoulders easing and he sighs into Louis' mouth. He likes kissing so much, and his burned tongue doesn't change that, even if it makes it a bit more of a challenge.

Every time Louis tries to pull back, all too aware that they're in public (and that George's hair does look quite like Harry's from most camera angles), George chases him again, little whining noises bringing Louis back down to kiss again.

Finally, Louis has to touch George's chest to keep him where he is, and Louis' eyes are sparkling, his face flushed when he pulls back all the way. "Quite enough of that, for now," he says, and his voice is a bit breathless, too.

George's eyes are blown-out and shimmering when he opens them again and ducks his head to suck on his own lip, smiling at Louis from beneath his fringe. "I like kissing you, though."

"Don't look at me like that," Louis warns, laughing. "You're much more irresistible than you realize, I think."

George's cheek dimples and he bats his lashes at Louis teasingly.

"Harlot," Louis says affectionately, stroking a knuckle over George's cheek. "I'd kiss you all day, if I could."

George lets a pleased little shiver ripple down his spine. "Can we kiss -- you know, during, then? I know you don't kiss Harry when you, erm, play, but... I miss it."

"It helps to keep me grounded, so that I don't lose myself in the scene." Louis hums quietly. "Maybe, when we're not doing something so intense? I don't want to lose control while you're under. I'm not willing to do that."

"What would happen, if you did?" George furrows his brow. "If you lost control? What would happen to me?"

"Do you remember how you felt, when you dropped and I wasn't there to help you down?" Louis asks, his eyes serious and locked on George. "If I'm stuck in my own head, I'm worried that would happen again."

"But Harry will be there," George points out. "He could stop you. He's bigger than you."

"Harry's not naturally a very dominant person," Louis says with a small smile. "Sometimes, he can be. But he's not with me."

George knows this is true. He's seen it, and it's pretty beautiful. 

"So if I were to be yours all the time, could you never kiss me again?"

Louis' shaking his head almost immediately. "No, of course not. There's no way I could keep you under all the time. You'd never be able to think, or function."

"Oh." George finishes the last of his toastie. "Then I haven't been under this whole time? Only Nick said -- Harry told him I was."

"Nick talks a lot," Louis says plainly. "And he talks a lot about things he shouldn't, because he doesn't know half of what's going on."

"But he did used to be like, what I am now?" George asks.

"No." Louis takes another sip of his coffee, then scrunches his face up. "Well, sort of. He was our third, for a while, yeah. He wasn't like you, though."

"Yeah, the way he talked... he offered to give what I need," George says carefully. "He offered to," he lowers his voice and flushes pink, "Dominate me. Was that -- were you his submissive?"

George can't picture it, Louis giving up his control of himself. Or of Harry.

"I really hope somebody punches him in the face if it can't be me," Louis mutters. He clears his throat. "No, I wasn't. Harry was. Or, Harry was supposed to be both of ours."

George frowns. "Does that work?"

"Obviously not." Louis gives him a tight smile. "As you'll have noticed."

"But you and Harry both," George nods meaningfully, "For me?"

"You are not Nick Grimshaw," Louis says, taking another long drink from his cup. "And thank God for that."

"Well, thanks, I rather prefer my hair," George says, "But I mean, you and Harry both, erm, _dominate_ me. Are you -- are you saying that doesn't work anymore?"

He knew it.

Louis shakes his head, though. "I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying our relationship with you is a lot different from our _whatever_ with Nick. You don't want Harry all for yourself, for one thing."

George suspects that he wasn't meant to, but he catches the tiny wobble in Louis' voice all the same.

"I don't," he assures him. "I really don't. I mean, I l -- really like Harry a lot, a lot a lot, but I always want to impress you. I like you, too."

"I'm glad to hear it." Louis grips George's hand, and he sounds flippant, but he doesn't let go. "Can you tell me what Nick said to you? Exactly?" he requests quietly. "If I'm going to defend myself, I should probably know what I'm defending against."

"Erm, he said," George takes a thoughtful sip of the cooling latte as he tries to remember. "That you don't know how to bring me back up, and now I'm stuck. And he said... erm, that you and Harry are weird together. And that he's worried about Harry 'cause you have him too spun up." He looks down at a scratch in the table. "He said you don't know what you're doing and it hurt Harry."

Louis mutters something that sounds a lot like, "Fucking prick," and then sighs. "Well, Harry and I _are_ weird together, so he's right about one thing, at least."

"I like how you're weird together, though," George says hopefully. "You take care of each other."

"We do take care of each other," Louis agrees. "He only thinks I've got Harry spun up because Harry didn't leave me for him, despite all his best efforts." He pauses for a moment, a bitter smile curving his lips. "That sounded really harsh, but it's true so I won't apologize for it."

George snorts. "I wouldn't expect you to."

Louis' smile softens at that. "I'm rubbish at apologies. What else did you say, that I don't know what I'm doing? Well, I don't, but if he thinks it's all my fault Harry got hurt, he's more fucked in the head than I thought."

"It's not your fault I got hurt, either," George offers quietly, but before he's even halfway through the sentence, Louis' shaking his head.

" _That_ one is my fault," Louis says. "Maybe a bit Harry, but it's almost entirely my fault."

"It's not, though." George wants anyone to just agree with him, because he's right and he knows he is. "You couldn't have known how I'd take that tweet. I didn't even know how I'd take it, and I still don't, so how could you?"

"Because that's my job, to know," Louis said. "And to make sure that I didn't... get you so spun up."

"What if I like being spun up?" George asks. "Is it still such a problem, then?"

"It is when it gets to a point that anything I tell you, you take a command."

Louis shakes his head, and his brow is pinched. "And I should have known, because that's what I did to Harry."

"But we fixed that, didn't we?" George asks him with wide eyes. "I don't go mental every time I'm not around you, anymore."

"George," Louis says thoughtfully, "Can you go get me a spoon from over there?"

George begins to rise from his seat automatically before he drops back down when he realizes what he's doing. "That's just me being a nice person!" he insists. "I'm fetching things for people all the time!"

George rolls his eyes. "That doesn't prove anything. I'd get anyone a spoon if they asked 'cause I'm not a dick. It doesn't prove anything."

"What if," Louis begins, lowering his voice, "What if I wanted you to suck my cock, right now? Right in front of this big window, so anyone could look past and see. What if I wanted you to do that?"

George swallows. He licks his lip, the top, then the bottom, and swallows again. "I... could do that."

"Yeah? A little bit of exhibitionism? Or maybe I want to suck _your_ cock. Why don't you get it out for me right now?"

George's heart pounds, and he isn't hard _at all_ , but he looks over his shoulder and pushes his chair back a little to get at his top button. He'd told Louis he didn't like this; he did. He's pretty sure he did, but if Louis needs this to prove he's better than Nick Grimshaw, George will do it.

"Stop, George," Louis says, and he doesn't sound lascivious at all anymore, just tired. "You've told me you don't like that, and I asked you to do it anyway. Why didn't you say no?"

George looks down. "I just like pleasing you. You _said_ that isn't bad."

"It's bad when you care about making me happy more than you care about your own happiness. That's not right, and I shouldn't have let it get this far." Louis sets a hand on George's arm. "No matter how much you want to please me, if you ever feel uncomfortable, or you're hurt, or upset, _tell me to stop_."

"You said that already," George said, and he feels a little itchy. He tugs at the collar of his jacket. "I did, last time. You said it was good. And you can't -- if I don't tell you, that's not your fault. It's just me doing things wrong again."

"No, George, it's not. If you don't trust me enough to still like you even if you don't want to do something, that's my fault, and I'm -- I'm sorry." Louis lets out a long, low breath. "I'm sorry because I haven't done this right at all, if you're scared to tell me when you don't want something."

"I'm not scared of you!" George crosses his arms. "That's what Nick said, too, but it's not true. I'm not a child, I'm older than Harry and nearly as old as you, and I'm not scared of you!"

"Then why do you feel like you have to do the things I tell you? What do you think is going to happen if you don't?" Louis challenges.

"I don't think about it like that," George says. "It's not a _threat_. Just, you tell me things you'd like, and I want to make you happy. That's it."

"Want to make me happy, or need to make me happy?" Louis asks quietly.

"Both," George decides after a long minute's tracing the cracks in the tabletop with the tip of one finger. "But I need to make everyone happy. That's just how I am."

"Hey," Louis whispers, taking his hand. "Not when it puts you out, alright? I don't ever want you to do something for me if you're not completely into it as well."

"But I'm almost always completely into it." George blushes. "You're like... really well fit. And I'm just lucky to be with you guys."

"Well, thank you, but that's not what I mean." Louis smiles at him. "If you actually want it, it's fine. But -- like before, when you started to do it even though you didn't want to, and you knew I knew you didn't want to. I don't like that. I don't want you feeling like you need to make me happy above everything else."

"But if I don't make you happy, then what's the point of me being with you? You already have Harry."

Louis looks at him curiously. "You're making me happy just by sitting there," he says, his shoulders twitching in what's not quite a shrug. "When you do things you don't want to do, I just feel terrible."

"Yeah, but..." George trails off. "He's Harry Styles. And you already have him. And like, he loves you?" George guesses. "And you love him? So if I don't make you happy with me, then you two can... just be happy without me, can't you?"

"Come here," Louis says softly, holding out his arm and tugging George and his chair closer. "You think if you say no sometimes, we're not going to want you anymore?"

"Not exactly." George is definitely itchy now. "I don't like talking about this."

"I'm sorry, but I need to understand this. What exactly is it, then? You can tell me, George, I promise I'm staying right here." He squeezes George's shoulder.

"People just like me better when I do what they want," George mumbles. "But that's true of everyone, isn't it? It's not weird. I'm not weird."

"Of course you're not weird, darling," Louis whispers, and he kisses George's head. "But it's not like that, with Harry and me. We just want you to be happy, with us, without us. We care about you and we want you to be as happy as you can be."

"Being told what to do makes me happy," George shrugs. He feels like his face is on fire. "I feel like then, as long as I do it, you're happy with me."

"I do like telling you what to do," Louis says agreeably. "But I'd be happy with you either way. I'll be happy with you if you tell me to go fuck myself, as long as you're not doing something you don't want to do."

George doesn't really know what to say to that. So instead he settles for, "What happened with Nick?"

"You want the whole story?" Louis says. He sounds resigned. "I suppose you're entitled to it, especially if Harry's been talking to him about you."

"Yeah, I don't think I like that." George's face pinches. "Nick's like, on radio. He could tell the whole country about me."

"And Harry and I are international pop stars who could tell the world about you." Louis shrugs. "Nick's a professional, about this, at least. He won't tell anyone else. I'm not going to begrudge Harry wanting to talk about his relationship to someone. You've got Ella, he's got Nick."

"Oh." George is embarrassed at that, and feels selfish, and that makes him itch more. He has to take this jacket off; it's killing him. "I didn't think of that."

Louis looks at him for a long moment. "I'll talk to him about it," he promises softly. "See if he can't at least tone it down a little. I don't really want Nick Grimshaw knowing what you're like in bed, believe it or not."

"Me, neither," George says, relieved. He feels ten pounds lighter without his fitted suit jacket. "Why do you hate him?"

"Hate's a really strong word," Louis hedges. "I don't -- hate him, exactly. He's really funny, most of the time, and Harry adores him, so he can't be all bad."

"But Harry isn't allowed to mention him when you're naked," George points out. "And you were sort of, you were fighting over me."

Louis twitches a little. "Alright, full story, then. You know Nick was our third, for a while. I don't know how long, in all, but it didn't end well. It ended really terribly, actually."

"I guessed that part," George mumbles. "Did Aiden, too? Nick said Aiden did, too."

"Nick was telling you all sorts of things, wasn't he?" Louis gives the table a mutinous look. "Yeah, that didn't end very well, either. We don't do Grimshaws well, I don't think."

George nods, and twists his fingers together in his lap. "Right."

"Do you remember when I told you Harry's only dropped two or three times?" Louis asks, slowly rubbing circles on George's arm.

George nods. "Yeah, but that seems like a good record for two years. Isn't it?"

"Well, I'd rather it was zero times, but it could be worse." Louis smiles a little. "It can be really hard to try and please two people, especially if those two people aren't in tune with each other."

George nods a little hesitantly. "Well, you and Harry are always in tune, aren't you? So I won't have that problem."

"Right, you won't. And that makes all the difference, believe me. I won't have to take a break during play so I don't smash Harry's fucking face in." Louis clears his throat. "That was a sort of. Problem, when we'd play with Nick. He's very..." He seems to struggle for the word. "Domineering."

"So are you," George points out. "In a quiet sort of way."

"Yes, I am." Louis nods. "Nick is very loud, you might have noticed. I felt like he was always cutting into my authority over Harry, when we'd do a scene. I'd say one thing and he'd deliberately say another."

"Well, that's shit," George says. "I don't see how that's your fault."

"Because I'd do it back, sometimes." Louis looks very sad, just for a second. "It was petty, and awful, but sometimes he'd say something and I'd tell Harry to do the opposite. Anything to feel like I was better than Nick at this."

"I doubt Harry sees it that way." George touches Louis' knee beneath the table. "I don't think he could blame you for that."

"Nick could, though." Louis sets his hand on top of George's. "And I blame him for the same thing."

"But what does that have to do with bringing Harry back up?" George shakes his head. "He acts like you did something _really_ awful to Harry."

"Alright, imagine, for a second," Louis begins, squeezing George's hand. "Imagine we're in bed, you and me and Harry, and you're under, and I tell you to do something, and then right after that, Harry tells you to do the exact opposite."

"I'd probably -- I'd probably listen to you," George says. "Harry wants you to be happy, too, so he -- I'd probably listen to you?"

"Probably," Louis says thoughtfully. "What if, in the moment, you couldn't decide? Maybe you like the thing Harry's saying to do more, or the thing I'm saying is something you don't want to do?"

"You said to tell you, though, if I don't want something, so I'd say yellow, wouldn't I?"

"You would, good boy," Louis agrees. "What if you didn't, though? What if you were so far under you just wanted to please both of us, and you didn't know what to do?"

Thinking about it makes George's head hurt a little, and he says so. Louis leans down and kisses the top of George's head, then gives his neck a little rub before heading to the counter to ask for a glass of hot water and lemon.

He sets it down in front of George and murmurs, "Drink." After a pause: "If you want."

George drinks, and it makes him feel a little less throbby behind the eyes, and soothes his stomach as well. "Thank you," he says once he's had about half the glass.

Louis smiles at him kindly and rubs George's arm. 

"See? It's not good." He sighs. "Harry... I didn't realize how far -- " Louis cuts himself off with a frustrated breath. "We were just together all the time, you know? _All_ the time."

"For ages. Two years, or almost, right?" George asks. "Even if you don't live together right now, you might as well."

"Right, but we don't," Louis says, and he sounds so uncomfortable that an offer to do _anything_ for him is right on the tip of George's tongue. "After he dropped, it was like... really bad. And for him to get better, we had to be able to have time apart. I need Harry-free air, yeah, but he needs… space not to be under, even more than I need that. So, but with you, it's like time apart is bad, and I didn't realize that."

"I don't really like not being around you. I sound really clingy, don't I?" George frowns, and he can feel the hot flush crawling up his neck again. "I'm sorry. About Harry, as well."

"No, things are better with Harry." Louis bites his top lip, and the little crookedness of his bottom teeth is so endearing that George can't really help reaching out to touch Louis' mouth, just fleeting. His fingers are hot from his mug of water and lemon. "For like, a long time, with Harry... he was under and I didn't realize. It was really irresponsible. But now, like, we can be separated or like, not, you know, whatever, and it's sort of like getting to know him again. Him when he's not trying to please me. But Nick... was right to be angry I'd done that to Harry." Louis shakes his head. "He's right, but don't tell him I said so."

"Because I often have the opportunity to chat with Nick Grimshaw." George tries for a smile. "Is that what's happened with me, then? I'm always under and that's bad?"

"I don't know, really," Louis says, his brow furrowing. "I think you were that time you broke, but I don't know what I did to get you there."

"I really don't think I am, though," says George earnestly. "I'm away from you and Harry all the time. Have to be, with our schedules and everything. I'm not having daily breakdowns, or anything."

"I know. I don't get it. But Harry wasn't, either, no matter what I told him to do, for a while there," Louis says. His mouth twists. "He was a bit bad after Aiden left, but I thought he was just upset."

George shuffles his chair a little closer to Louis. "But he wasn't just upset? What was he, then?"

"George, d'you remember when you watched Harry and me together how long it took after for Harry to come back to himself?"

"Yes," George recalls. "It took him a long time to even be able to really move again. He was just sort of lying there."

"Right." Louis sounds sad. "Well, for a long time -- like, a year -- I thought that's just how Harry was."

"Oh." George tries to imagine Harry just being, not bright and vivacious and always moving, he's always moving. "Oh, no," he nearly gasps. "How did you -- I mean, you fixed him?"

"Yeah, he's better, he's fine, it just rattles me that I couldn't tell and he didn't tell me?" Louis says. "So when Nick came... when Nick came, it was bad enough during play, right, because he'd tell Harry to do the opposite of what I wanted, and he's like, really firm, actually? So Harry would get confused and it really upset him. But then once -- " Louis scrubs a hand over his face. "Basically, I told Harry to wait for me to go to this restaurant. This sounds so stupid and petty, but I told him because I knew Nick had invited him. And then Nick told him he _had_ to come, and Harry just... broke."

"Broke like I broke, you mean?" George asks weakly. It seems such a tiny thing, but maybe it's always tiny things that do the most damage. "He went bad-fuzzy?"

Louis looks a bit pale and sick, but he nods.

"I'm sorry." George grabs for Louis' hand with both of his own. "What did you do? Or -- Sorry, you don't want to talk about this."

"We should though," Louis says softly, "Because I think the same thing's happened with you. I don't know how to tell if you're yourself."

"Who else would I be?" George tries to laugh but it comes out all croaky. "I'm just George, I'm not, I remember what that felt like and I'd _know_ if it happened again."

Louis still looks upset. "But would you be able to tell me?"

"I don't think I'd be able to hide it. When I -- before -- Jaymi knew straight off," George reasons. "I couldn't breathe? You'd notice, if I couldn't breathe."

"I think Jaymi has more experience than we do," Louis admits. "I'm glad he was there. Erm, tell him thanks."

"I will," George mumbles. He still feels a bit odd. "When I, when I dropped, it felt like I'd never be happy again, sort of. And I don't feel like that right now."

"Well, that's good. How _do_ you feel?"

George considers that for a second. "A little itchy, sort of? Nervous, because it feels like I've done something wrong again."

"Okay," Louis says, and his hands are on George's arms, squeezing just enough to feel tight. It clears George's head a little, and he sighs happily.

"That's nice," he murmurs, smiling to himself. It makes him feel less prickly, and even his nerves feel a little less jangled.

"Good." Louis' voice is very soft. "Why d'you think you needed that just now?"

"It -- makes me feel grounded." George frowns a little, because that's not quite it. "It gives me something to focus on?"

"Alright, that's good to know," Louis says. "I think I understood that a bit, but -- why _now_ , when we're not in bed or even at Harry's house?"

"You make me feel grounded," replies George, his voice as quiet as it goes. "But that's not bad, is it?"

"It's not bad, it's just important for me to know, like. How much." Louis rubs his thumbs over George's arms and the edge of his blunt nail catches on one of Harry's lingering bruises, making George gasp -- and go a little hard beneath the table.

He swallows and tries not to squirm too noticeably in his seat. "I don't know how much. How do you measure something like that? I've gone whole weeks without seeing you, and been fine."

"Have you, though?" Louis looks a little skeptical. "We check in with you all the time now."

"You don't have to, if it's a bother." George shrugs as well as he can when Louis is gripping both of his arms. "I can -- I'll manage."

"No, that's not what I meant at all. Do you need us to get in touch with you more, or -- is it like with Harry, where you're better if we don't?"

"I like being near you," George says after a hesitation. "I like knowing that you think about me even when I'm not there, I guess."

Louis' smile is soft and a little shy. "We do, you know. We're rather fond of you."

George has to take a drink from his now cold coffee before he can tone his own smile down into something presentable. "I really, really like you," he says when he can. "I -- a lot. Even without the, you know. Sex. But I like that too, a lot."

"Do you like _us_ , or do you like us being in control of you?"

George wrinkles his nose. "That's almost exactly what Nick asked me. I like _you_. And I like when _you_ ," he says pointedly, "Are in control of me."

Louis makes a face at him. "Let's not ever allow me to say anything Nick's said, please." He actually shudders. "I want you to be really sure, though, George. If you could get this from someone else, I want you to. I want you to be as happy as you can be."

"I'm happy when I'm around you, though. Not just when you're ordering me around, even though I do like that a lot," says George. "Even just, like, when we cuddled on Sunday, that was really nice."

"Right," Louis says a little dubiously, "But you were under, then. Are you -- have you ever not been with us, since we met?"

"I don't feel like I am. Wouldn't I know?" George reasons. "Wouldn't I feel, you know, different? I do feel different, but it's not bad at all, it's just like now I have you and Harry."

Louis nods. "Alright. I guess that's more than I knew before, isn't it?"

"I do try to be honest with you, I swear I do." George wants to kiss Louis again, but he doesn't know if it'd be welcomed right now. He looks like he needs one, though. "I just don't know how to tell. If I'm under, or when I am, or whatever."

Louis looks so deep in thought at this, his lips just slightly pursed, that George can't stand it anymore and leans over to kiss him anyway.

He's not pushed away, and actually Louis pulls him a little closer, and rubs his back while they kiss. It makes George feel warm and happy inside, and he hopes Louis won't have to stop kissing him forever. He'd miss it too much.

Louis pulls back all too soon, though, because even though everyone in the shop is occupied, they're in public and there's no telling when a horde of boy band fans might wander past.

"I don't want to not do that," George says aloud. He's being honest. Louis likes it when he's honest. "I like doing that."

"Okay," Louis says, and tweaks at George's fringe. "Okay, we can still do that, then. But maybe not in bed?"

"Not in bed," George reluctantly agrees. He can see why Louis wants to keep it that way, and he understands, even if he'd like all kissing all the time. "That's fair."

Louis nods and pushes at a bruise on George's forearm. "Maybe Harry will still kiss you then, though."

"Would he, do you think?" That makes George feel a bit better, and so does the twinge of pain that goes up his arm. "I like kissing," he admits.

"I know you do," Louis says, laughing a bit. "You like everything. You're nearly as sexual as Harry when it comes down to it."

"You say that like you're not just as bad," George reminds him. "How many times have you got my dick out in public, again?"

"Well, that's different," Louis demurs. "Your dick's really pretty and it deserves fresh air."

George slaps his hand over his face and laughs, almost doubled over onto the table.

Louis looks very pleased with himself when George can get enough air to look up again, a smile twitching his lips as he looks at George.

"I've never had it called pretty before," says George, hiccuping out another laugh. "Thanks, I guess. I feel like I should put a bow on it."

"Mmm, like a present," Louis hums. "I'd like to unwrap that."

"I'd let you." George lowers his voice. "You can unwrap me all you like."

"After the -- shit, the awards," Louis says, and checks the time. "D'you want to come back to Harry's tonight, since we'll be gone for the weekend's shows?"

"Oh, right, you're going to places." George knew that but he still feels a little sinking feeling in his stomach. "Other countries, and that. Yeah, I'd love to, if it's alright."

"Good, yeah, I'm glad." Louis stands and leaves a bit of money on the table since they've been sitting for ages. "Let's go sneak back in."

"We've been gone a long time and you're sort of a big deal. Do you think anyone's noticed?" George slips his jacket back on, even though he's still a bit warm. It'll be colder outside.

"Probably just security." Louis doesn't sound the least bit concerned. "They may think you kidnapped me, but probably not."

"Probably not," George repeats. "Am I going to die tonight by way of One Direction Security Squad?"

"No, no, no, no, no," Louis assures him. "Maybe. Probably not. They'll recognize you."

"This isn't really reassuring," informs George, even though he's smiling. He likes this. He likes being able to banter with Louis. "You'll protect me, won't you?" he asks, sidling close.

"I guess so," Louis says. His voice turns low and molten -- "I need you in one piece if we're bringing you home to bed, don't I? Can I fuck you tonight, or do you only like fucking me?"

George feels a shiver go down his spine. "Whatever you want," he says before he remembers Louis doesn't like that. "I'd like you to fuck me."

"Yeah?" Louis’ fingers tuck up beneath George's jacket and t-shirt to draw teasing circles over the bare wing of his hip. "Harry, too?"

"Both of you?" George imagines that, one right after the other. "Yes. Please," he adds.

Louis' fingers slip beneath the waistband of George's trousers and draw once down the cleft of his bum and back up again just as they reach the back delivery doors of the awards ceremony. "Needy."

"You like it, anyway," George counters, staying close to Louis. "Don't act like you don't."

Louis just throws George a wink and then he's _gone_ , expert at disappearing into crowds. George is left to find his own winding way back to the rest of Union J and Ella, who is so relieved to see him -- and has clearly had more than one Cosmo -- that she flings her arms around his neck.

"Sorry, did you miss me?" George asks, wrapping his own arms around her. "Harry obviously got your drink to you."

"He gave me two!" Ella informs him. "He's very nice, did you know? And attractive, Harry Styles is very... attractive, to me."

"He's very attractive to everyone," agrees George. "And charming. Has he charmed you?"

"He is charming!" Ella agrees. "And he likes you a lot. We talked about you."

"Oh, no, what did you tell him?" George's eyes widen in horror at the thought of all the things Ella could've said to Harry. "Am I going to cry?"

"I said nice things, you loon," Ella sniffs. "Because you're my best friend. And I'm fond of you, too."

George's face softens, and he's quite fond of Ella as well. "You're my best friend, too. I'm sorry I accused you of being terrible."

"I could be terrible when I'm tipsy," Ella agrees. "I think we'll need to try this out more to find out."

"I really have turned you into a monster," George laughs, taking in her flushed cheeks. "Next thing you know, we'll be finding you down the pub every night throwing back shots."

Ella wrinkles her nose and pulls a horrible face. "No, thank you. Harry gave me one of those, too, and it was awful. He had to pat me on the back for a long time."

"Did he look very sympathetic? He's good at that." George nods, mimicking the expression he's seen Harry make several times.

"That's it, that's the face!" Ella boops the end of George's nose. "I can see now why you're supposed to look like him."

George snaps at the end of her poking finger with his teeth and Ella squeaks.

"Rude," she chastises, frowning at him. "You were gone for ages and I had nobody to talk to; you should be treating me better."

"I'm sorry, little Ella," George hums, folding her into a hug and playing with the ends of her hair. "Why's there bits of chicken in your hair?"

"You weren't here to be my shield," Ella sulks, letting George pick out what he can.

"I'm sorry, Ella Bear," George laughs, picking food and paper out of her hair.

"You look properly like a monkey," Josh comments, settling back into his chair with a fresh drink. "Picking bugs out of her hair to eat."

"They're not bugs, and I am a proper monkey," George says with mock-affront. Things have been a lot better, with Josh, actually. Better than George could've expected. He crosses his eyes and puffs out his cheeks in a monkey face.

Josh actually snorts at that. "Ooh-ah!"

"I think that's all the bits I'm going to get, sorry," George says, smoothing out Ella's flyaway hairs. "Duck next time."

Ella harrumphs and turns away. "Horrible behavior towards a woman at an awards show for women, you lot. I'm appalled, personally."

"You aren't a woman, you're an Ella-bear." Josh chucks a bit of roll at her and it nests into her beehive.

She gives him a look that could kill. "George, get it out," she insists, "and then find me something that can beat someone to death."

"Yes, ma'am." 

By the time Ella's hair is clean and Josh has been thoroughly whapped with Tulisa's handbag, the event is dwindling down to the general mingling side of the event. George can see Harry standing over Nick Grimshaw's chair where Nick is holding court to a table of tall, cool hipsters, and Louis in the opposite corner of the room talking to Zayn and Liam.

He doesn't know whether either would appreciate his presence at the moment, and he still feels a bit -- weird -- about Nick Grimshaw, so he just loiters near the rest of his band and sips from punch that's had too much ice melted into it.

It's sad, too, how much the X Factor group has dwindled in just five short weeks. Lucy's still out ill, and Jade is gone of course -- has been slagging them in the press, too, which _hurts_ \-- and George still misses Melanie around grounding everyone a bit. It's a big boys' club now, other than Ella.

"You're staring," Ella says to him, a little more steady on her feet but still flushed at the tops of her cheeks. "At Louis. Or one of the others, but I'm pretty sure it's Louis."

"Well, look at him," George murmurs. "How could you not stare?"

"I'm doing alright," Ella reasons. "Are you going off with them again later? Since I know you're going to be all mopey once they're gone."

"I am, yeah," George says, but frowns. "I don't fancy going over there, though, as Nick Grimshaw upsets me and I've not met the other One Direction lads enough to know how they'll -- react to me. I don't want to look... slaggy."

"I don't know if you have the ability to look slaggy." Ella's brow furrows. "You could go tell Liam Payne I'm going to marry him, if you wanted. He should know ahead of time."

"We could do that." George proffers his elbow. "Would you like to?"

"Not with chicken bits in my hair," Ella grumps. "But he probably should know that I'm his wife. I bet he's never heard that from a stranger before, has he?"

"You don't have any more chicken bits, I got them," George promises.

"Well, if you're sure." Ella giggles a little, covering her mouth. "Oh, this is ridiculous. I can't tell Liam Payne I'm marrying him with my hair a mess."

George smiles and leans in to kiss Ella's cheek. "You look beautiful. He'd be lucky."

"Flatterer," Ella tells him, but she stands a little straighter and finally takes George's arm. "Off we go, then."

The One Directioners fall silent when George and Ella reach them, and it makes George squirm a little inside.

"Hi," George says after a moment, steeling himself. "Er - Ella wants to marry Liam Payne," he blurts because he hates that squirmy feeling and Ella will probably forgive him. After a while.

She squawks, Liam looks politely confused -- although that might just be his face -- and Louis throws his head back to laugh.

George grins because he loves making Louis laugh; it makes him feel accomplished like almost nothing else. He bats at Ella's hands as she smacks at him, her face gone bright red.

"You can't just _tell_ people that!" She punches him so hard in the shoulder he's pretty sure he's going to have another bruise.

"I didn't tell people, I told One Direction!"

"That's worse!" Ella insists, giving him another solid smack to the head. "You are the worst!"

"Ow!" George pouts and lets his lip wobble. "See if he'll marry you _now_. Hmmf."

"To be fair, he probably wouldn't have married her before," Louis breaks in gently. "Bit young for our Liam."

"I'm sure you're lovely!" Liam says to Ella, with the same polite and bewildered expression. Probably just his face, then. "But we've only just met, so I don't think marriage would be appropriate."

"Well, I didn't mean _now_ , I'm not that ridiculous," Ella blusters, but George still feels a little bad. "I meant more, hi, I'm Ella Henderson, I'm on the X Factor this year, it's good to meet you."

Liam smiles and holds out his hand for Ella to shake, and he's very endearing, George thinks. Liam has quite a nice smile. "I'm Liam Payne, I was on the X Factor two years ago, and it's good to meet you as well, Ella Henderson."

"Ella is going to win," George tells Liam.

"Aren't you supposed to want to win?" Liam asks with a quizzical frown. "Or has the show changed since the last time I watched?" He looks to Louis for an answer.

"Anyone can want to win, but it's pretty clear this year it'll either be Ella, James Arthur, or this guy Jahmene," Louis confirms. He gives George an apologetic look. "I hope you make the final, at least, though, you know I do."

"I know." George didn't know, not really, and hearing Louis say it makes him nearly giddy with happiness. "I mean, it's pretty obvious you don't need to win to be successful."

Liam winks at that. "Too true."

He's very dapper, is Liam, George decides. All well put together and cute in a very professional way. "We'll just need to work hard at it, to come back from being in the bottom two on Sunday."

"You'll smash it," Louis says. "And even if you're out, you'll be fine. Someone will sign you if you're in the top 8 anyhow. Aiden -- Aiden's doing well and he was ninth."

George has to work to control his face. "That's true, I guess. Still, better to go as long as we can, right?"

"Always a good motto," Louis says, and it makes George thrill a bit.

He opens his mouth to say something -- though he's not sure what -- but before he can think of anything a man taps Louis on the shoulder and bends to say something quietly into his ear.

Louis nods and pokes Liam's side. "We've to go."

"Oh, alright. Sorry, was lovely meeting you." Liam sounds entirely sincere and it's sort of ridiculous how he holds out his hand to shake George's and then brings Ella's to his mouth to kiss the back of it. He's like a character out of a film.

Ella goes an adorable pink in the face that makes George smile. Louis leans in to give her a little hug, and then George. 

"Meet us at Harry's?" he whispers in George's ear. "Just take a cab."

"I don't know his address," George murmurs back. "Text it to me?"

Louis nods and gives George a little smile as the One Direction boys regroup and are shunted out of the hall. They look bigger, somehow, when they're all five together.

"Sorry I sort of threw you under the bus," George says to Ella, wincing a little. "I couldn't think of anything else to say and I panicked."

"After I kill you, you can apologize again and see if I've forgiven you," Ella hisses.

"I got chicken out of your hair?" George tries. "I'm sorry? I think he thought you were cute, though?"

Ella wrinkles her nose and growls at him, batting her hands in his face again, and she _is_ cute, so if Liam didn't think so, then he's a fool.

His phone buzzes in his pocket but he already knows it's Louis, so he ignores it for a moment to pull Ella into a hug. Cuddles usually calm her down.

"I'm going to be mortified tomorrow, I can already tell -- oh God, what if he tells an anecdote about me in an interview? That weird girl from X Factor who wanted to marry him?" Ella's voice gets progressively higher-pitched. "George!"

"He won't," George soothes, although he doesn't know Liam and it does seem like the sort of thing he's seen happen in One Direction interviews. "I'll erm, I'll talk to Harry and Louis tonight and have them tell him not to."

"I thought they tell you to do things, not the other way around." Ella cuddles into his chest. "I'm getting makeup all over your shirt and I'm _not sorry_ about it, that's how angry you've made me."

George pets at Ella's hair and discovers an errant piece of paper that had burrowed further than the rest. He carefully untangles it. "That's alright, Ella Bear. I suppose I deserve it a bit. I am sorry."

"I'll forgive you eventually, I suppose." Ella sniffs, straightening up and brushing down the front of her dress. "If you get me chocolate pastries every day."

"I will," George promises. "D'you want to ride along with me so you can sober up a bit before you have to see hotel security? And also to make sure I'm not being sent to an abandoned alley to be killed so there's no more boy band competition?"

"They wouldn't have you killed, then they'd lose out on all the -- the sex bits." Ella nods anyway, and lets out a sigh. "Am I very drunk? I don't feel drunk, but I don't think I'd be able to tell."

"You look drunker than you are, maybe?" George smooths his hand over Ella's hair. "What with all the rubbish in your hair. I can plait it for you in the cab if you'd like."

"You're a darling when you're not awful," Ella says with a smile. "I'd like that, thanks. If you don't mind. And even if you do, because you embarrassed me in front of One Direction."

"Of course." George helps Ella find her coat and handbag again at their table, and they tell their handlers that they'll find their own way back to the hotel. Inevitably, this will spawn more gossip stories in the morning and up the odds on them being papped kissing, but at least then their friends can make some money at the end of the competition when they aren't.

It's easy enough to find a cab, even this late. People are still straggling out of the doors and so Ella and George aren't really noticed as George hails a car and lets Ella slip in before him.

He takes out his phone and reads the address off of it carefully. He doesn't want them to end up in an alleyway because he said a one where he should've said a four.

Ella is an affectionate drunk and George keeps having to re-plait her hair because she gets bored in the middle and nuzzles at his chest with her head. It's a little like trying to get anything done with a cat nearby, but he doesn't mind.

"Are you going to be alright getting back on your own?" he whispers, finally finishing off his plait. It's a little crooked. He doesn't think that's his fault. "I don't want to, like, abandon you on your own in London."

"I can get back," Ella says. "It's a massive hotel; everyone can find it. If I get lost I'll just follow some twelve-year-olds and ask them how to get to Josh Cuthbert."

George laughs. "That'll work, as well, I guess. Only if you're sure."

Ella smiles and ruffles his hair. "Go! I'm fine. Enjoy your boyfriends. I'll go home and write in my diary about how you've ruined my chances with mine."

"They're not my boyfriends," George mumbles, even as he's grinning to himself. "I'll apologize forever, okay?"

Ella bites the end of his nose. "Good."

"Hug me before I have to leave," George commands. "I mean, please? Pretty please?"

Ella hugs him, and George kisses her cheek. "If you need help getting back to the hotel, ring me, yeah?"

"Go!" Ella laughs, pushing at his shoulder. "I'm not a child, I can say words and sit in a car while it takes me back."

George smiles and tips the cabbie as he unfolds himself from the backseat. The lights are on lining the path up to Harry's gate, and George realizes that he's never actually gone in the front doors before, since Harry parks in the side garage. The house looks even more massive from this angle.

He takes a deep breath and strides forward, using the massive amount of time it takes to get all the way up the long path to try and relax a little. Before, it was easier, with Ella to distract him, but now all he can really think about is how unsure he'd felt around the other members of One Direction, and how he really is just a tiny part of Louis and Harry's lives. 

They're in a band and they go on tour and they're big and famous and George is just on The X Factor, and he could be something eventually, but everything he could be is something they've already become, and he doesn't want to think about it but it's dark and he's alone and he really just wants to be in Harry's giant haunted house.

He pushes the button at the outside gate and the intercom crackles. "Is that George?"

"Yeah, it's me. Er, do you need my mother's maiden name or something, like the bank?" he asks.

"No, we can see you," Harry giggles. "Unless you'd believe we have a dick-scanning personal identifier? Get that out there."

"I don't believe you," George says haughtily. "But if you let me in, you can scan it in person."

There's a buzz, and the gate slides open. George ducks through, hands in his pockets, and jogs up the lane.

It's gotten colder since earlier and he shivers, wanting to pull his jacket more tightly around him but unwilling to remove his hands from his pockets.

Harry opens the front door before George even gets close. He's changed out of his suit and into soft plaid pyjama bottoms and a stretched-out t-shirt so thin George can already see Harry's nipples through the fabric.

"Hi," George says, his smile automatic. Harry looks really good no matter if he's in a three-piece suit or just as he is right now.

"Hey, you," Harry says. He wraps his hands around George's hips and hauls him up the last step and into the house. "Sorry I didn't see you much earlier."

"That's alright; you were busy," George murmurs, already wrapping himself around Harry. He's warm and he smells nice and George did miss him an awful lot.

Harry nuzzles George's ear. "Did you have a good talk with Louis?"

"Yeah, it was really nice. He got me coffee and a toastie." George sighs happily and kisses Harry's neck. "We talked about a lot of things."

Harry rubs George's back. "That's what he said. How are you feeling now? Nick said to tell you he's sorry. Actually, he didn't, but I'm sorry on his behalf."

"It's okay. I think he was trying to help. Probably." George shrugs a little. "He's very charming."

Harry laughs at that. "He can be."

"I missed you," George says quietly, unsure of whether or not it sounds too pathetic to even say. "Not -- I just did, I missed you."

Harry kisses George's temple and starts to unbutton his way down George's suit jacket. "Will you be alright without us this weekend?"

"I... Don't know," says George. Honesty, he's trying honesty. "I've gotten used to you being there after we perform."

"We can Skype, after?" Harry offers. "I'd say we'll try to be there but we'll be in Sweden or somewhere. Italy, maybe."

"Don't you know?" George laughs a little. "It must be nice to not know which foreign country you'll be out conquering."

"They all run together after a while." Harry slides George's jacket from his shoulders and ducks his head to kiss George's collarbone through the soft cotton of his tee.

George hums and gently touches the back of Harry's head. "That feels nice," he says as he strokes through Harry's hair.

Harry's voice is just a softly muffled _good_ as his hands burrow up into George's t-shirt to pet at his skin, raising gooseflesh. George's nipples go hard and he squeaks a little as Harry noses at the nub through his clothes.

George sighs happily and rubs the back of Harry's neck. He can feel tension uncoiling in his belly and for the first time all day he feels warm in a way that's pleasant instead of stifling.

He lifts his arms when Harry instructs him and the shirt eases over George's head. Harry's teeth scrape over George's skin and bring out pink lines George wishes he could keep.

"You're putting on muscle," Harry says, and licks into George's navel. "Good on you."

"I've been going to the gym more than, er, never," George says, all his stomach muscles tensing as he tries not to giggle. "That tickles."

Harry grins up at George mischievously and mouths once at the fabric of George's trousers once before standing.

"I didn't mean you had to stop," says George quickly, his hands moving to settle on Harry's hips. His skin is soft, and warm, and George wants to touch him all over.

Harry leans in and kisses George softly. "Louis wants me to wait until we get you upstairs."

"Can we go upstairs yet, then?" George asks, sliding his hands back and around to touch the muscles in Harry's back.

"Mmmm," Harry hums, "Not yet, I don't think. He's getting himself set upstairs and you know he needs to be alone for that. Besides, he got you to himself earlier and now it's my turn."

"That's fair," George agrees. Harry having him is never going to be a problem, he doesn't think.

Harry beams at that like it's made his day, and George has to bite his lip to keep from lifting off the floor, he feels so light.

He slides his arms around Harry in a proper hug. He doesn't know how anyone manages to not hug Harry when they're near him. He's so cuddly-looking and soft, and he smells so nice all the time.

Harry gives George a squeeze before nosing down at George's cheek until he assents for a kiss.

He's still the best kisser George has ever experienced. Harry kisses like he knows he's good at it, confident and smooth and he keeps one hand on George's back while the other slides up to curl around the back of George's neck.

As much as George always wants to impress Louis, it's easier somehow to -- go down, they've called it, so that's how George is trying to think of it now, although it's just the floating, white space for him -- for Harry.

He sighs into Harry's mouth and relaxes, and when Harry breaks the kiss with a playful nip to George's lower lip, he smiles at the sting.

Harry's eyes travel over George's pink, open face and he hums, big hands rubbing over George's arms. "Such a good boy for me."

"Yes," George agrees, letting his eyes drift closed as he smiles. "Always good for you."

Harry rubs the back of George's neck. "How'd'you feel about that? Being -- always ours, I mean?"

"I am," George breathes, blinking at Harry. "I -- I am always yours."

Harry smiles and kisses George's cheek, just where it's roundest. "I know _that_ , but I mean, basically, how did your talk with Louis go about like, whether you like being under so often?"

"It feels nice," says George, tilting his head. "I like this feeling. I don't feel like this all the time, though."

Harry nods at that, and pulls George over to the sofa and down into his lap. "Would you want to, if you could?"

George settles, curling his arms around Harry's neck. "Mmmm. It feels nice," he says again. "It helps me not think."

"Can you think enough that you could rehearse and perform?" Harry asks curiously, shifting his legs so George can settle right up against his hips, George half-hard and Harry still soft pressed together through their trousers. "Could you do that for us, George?"

"If you wanted me to," George agrees. "If it makes you happy."

"Well, you doing well in the show and being happy would make me happy." Harry's hands are excruciatingly gentle as he undoes the button at the front of George's trousers. "But you look so good like this that it's hard not to ask you to stay down all the time. I really want to."

"Whatever you want." George tries to imagine performing like this, all thick and syrupy in his head. "Anything you want."

George tilts his head and feels thoughts prickle up through the soft syrup. He pictures the bright of the stage lights, the heat of them. Jaymi's and JJ's and Josh's faces pop into his head, bursting like flashbulbs, and he knows he wouldn't let them down. 

"I could do that," he hedges. "I think I could do that."

"Are you sure?" asks Harry, tipping George's head up with his fingertips and then stroking down the line of his throat.

George shivers, but nods. "Yeah, I could. Not if you were touching me, but you wouldn't be onstage anyway."

"Right, we wouldn't be onstage," Harry agrees with a smile. "No touching, not while you're trying to sing all pretty."

George smiles at that and ducks his face into Harry's neck.

"Oh, love," Harry whispers, rubbing George's back. "You look so good like this. So soft, and gorgeous."

George shivers again and nods, pushing a little into Harry's lap. "I like it."

"Do you want to feel like this all the time?" Harry kisses the line of George's jaw, leaving his mouth there as he continues to speak. "Would you like that?"

George blinks and lets his eyelashes tickle at the column of Harry's neck. Harry makes a pretty noise at that, so George follows them with his lips, kissing and sucking lightly across Harry's skin.

Harry laughs softly, and George can feel the vibrations of it on his lips. "Such a good boy," says Harry, lifting his head just slightly. 

Harry's skin feels nice against George's mouth. He doesn't think he can leave marks, not with Harry going off to who-knows-where tomorrow, but he can still taste and touch and feel with his lips and his tongue.

George frowns and makes an unhappy sound when his lips hit the neckline of Harry's t-shirt, and he tugs at it with his teeth, growling a little.

Another quiet laugh. "Say please," Harry instructs gently, his fingers playing at the waist of George's jeans.

"Please?" George asks right away. "'s in the way."

"Lean back," Harry tells him, helping George shift back on Harry's lap so that he can tug his own shirt off over his head.

As soon as it's gone, George bites at the black line of tattoo across Harry's chest.

Harry's breath hitches obviously, and his hand grabs for the arm of the sofa, gripping it tightly. "You've got such a lovely mouth, George," he mumbles.

George smiles and bites harder at Harry's skin. "Can I leave marks?"

"I don't think I'm going topless," Harry sighs, his eyelids lowered a little. "Not my neck."

George grins and nuzzles in to bite at Harry's bicep, just over the twisted black words that snake down its side.

"Wait," Harry murmurs, and touches George's hair. "Not that arm. That's Louis’.”

"Oh, I'm sorry," George replies, kissing Harry's shoulder in apology. He ducks beneath Harry's chin to reach his other arm, kissing him carefully before he bites, cradling Harry's elbow.

"That's alright, love," Harry murmurs, and pets through George's hair as George sucks at the meat of Harry's arm, licking in close to taste salt.

George laughs breathlessly, his tongue flicking out again to taste the mark he's made, one that'll be on Harry for at least a day or two, all dark and his. He feels even more lightheaded at the thought, of Harry belonging to him as much as he belongs to Harry.

Harry works the heel of his hand over the front of George's trousers. He laughs a little, not unkindly. "You like that, don't you, George. You're so bitey."

"Mine," George mumbles, his eyes taking in his mark. "Mine, yours." This isn't coming out right, and he wishes it would, because it's important.

"That's right, George," Harry murmurs anyway. He opens the second button of George's starched black trousers and George grunts a bit as his cock pushes up immediately against the extra room.

"I need," George whines, his fingers curling around Harry's shoulders and pressing in. "Please?"

"Don't you want Louis to see?" Harry asks, and his thumb drags purposefully up the strong line of George's cock beneath his pants. "Don't you want to show Louis how good you are?"

"I'm so good, I'll be so good for him," moans George, his head dropping forward a little to watch Harry's hand. "I want him to see."

"Okay, love, that's right." Harry's other hand brushes George's fringe out of his eyes gently. "Let's stand up, there's a good boy. Go upstairs and get your clothes off."

George doesn't want to move from Harry's lap, because he feels nice and he's comfortably warm, but he wants even more to make Harry happy. He slips back carefully off of Harry's lap and stands on wobbly legs.

George frowns a little and palms over his dick, giving Harry a reproachful look. 

Harry just smiles mischievously and pats George's hip. "Go on. Upstairs and naked, please."

"Upstairs and naked," George repeats, giving Harry one last look before he turns to walk slowly toward the stairs. If he trips, he'll just be embarrassed. The stairs are hard to navigate but with a firm grip on the bannister he manages to scale them and from there it's only a few steps to find Harry's room.

He's a little sad that Louis isn't there, but Harry told him to get his clothes off, so George sets himself to that task. It's nice having only to think about one thing; small, easily-accomplished feats that will make Harry happy with him are good, not at all daunting like big things like winning the X Factor. He folds his trousers, since they're rented, and sets them on the chair in the corner before he toes out of his socks and starts to roll down the waistband of his pants.

"Slower," comes Louis' voice from the doorway that George always overlooks. He's naked and still beautiful, his eyes intent on George. "Do it slowly," he repeats when George looks at him.

George nods and tucks just his thumbs beneath the waistband, pulls it down just enough for the shiny head of his hard dick to peek out and then waits, letting Louis look at him.

"Good boy," Louis praises. "The rest of the way now, go on, my gorgeous boy."

George shivers a little at the praise and slides his pants the rest of the way down his hips. They fall down his legs and pool around his ankles on the floor, and he steps out of them, towards Louis.

"Get on the bed," Louis says in a low voice. "I want you all pretty and waiting for Harry when he comes up here."

George nods again and pads over to the bed, entirely aware in a hot glow all over his body that Louis is studying the way all of his parts fit together as he climbs onto the mattress and knee-walks up to the pillows.

"Yes, just like that. You look so good, George. I wish I could keep you naked all the time and just look at you." Louis takes a step farther into the room, watching George closely. "Keep you ready for us whenever we wanted."

George whimpers and spreads his thighs a little, canting his hips up so Louis can see everything. "You could do that. I'd like that a lot."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Louis laughs quietly. He's walking steadily toward the bed, but when he reaches it, he just stands there. "You'd love that, letting us use you when we wanted to. Pleasing us."

George reaches out for Louis with both hands, but Louis doesn't move. George drops his hands and instead runs them up his own chest, just needing to feel skin.

"Hands at your sides, George," instructs Louis. "No touching yourself, not yet. Wait for Harry."

George makes a desperate little noise, but obeys, his hands flat against the mattress on either side of him. He works his hips a little, rubbing up at nothing, but Louis doesn't seem sympathetic.

"Such a dirty boy," Louis says softly. "Such a pretty, dirty boy. You just want to be touched all the time, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," George agrees. He licks his lips and looks up at Louis with huge eyes. "Please?"

"You look so good when you beg." Louis walks down the length of the bed and then up the other side, slowly, his eyes on George the whole time. "I want to see you begging Harry just like that."

"Where is he?" George asks, watching Louis. 

It's strange how intimidating he can be without even touching George, without even raising his voice. There's something in the carriage of Louis' spine that makes him look two feet taller and smoothly powerful, like some sort of golden wild animal.

"He's on his way. Don't you worry your pretty head, George. You'll get what you need soon enough." Louis smiles at him, his eyes sweeping down the length of George's body.

Louis trails one fingertip over George's arm, and it's enough to bring up goosebumps all over George's body. "What do you need, love? What do you want Harry to do to you?"

"Touch me?" George answers. He feels like his tongue's too big for his mouth. "Touch me, fuck me? I need, _inside_ , please?"

"D'you want him to fuck you, George?" Louis asks quietly. George's mouth goes a little dry as Louis touches his own cock, pumping over it once slowly. "D'you want him to hold you down and pound you into the mattress so you can't even sit properly tomorrow?"

"Yes," George nearly wheezes. "Yes, please, I want it. I want to feel it. I want it so much."

Louis nods slowly. "Of course you do. You're such a filthy boy, George, honestly. Do you want his come on your skin or inside you?"

George remembers how it felt the first time he had come inside him, feeling messy and dripping and he'd felt so filthy-sexy. "In, inside, please."

He arches a little and whimpers, frowning. "I want Harry, please."

"Of course you do," Louis says softly, his eyes flicking toward the door. He doesn't say anything, but Harry steps into the room, and he's naked as well, tall and broad.

"Y'alright, George?" Harry's voice is even softer than Louis', low and rumbling as he settles onto the bed beside where George is trying so hard to keep himself still.

"I need you," George whispers, his hands curling into fists in the bed sheets. "Please?"

"Okay, that's okay," Harry says. He touches George's hip with one hand and his fingers are long enough to curl over George's concave little belly. His fingertips touch in little whorls. "Turn over for me, love."

George does, squirming over onto his stomach. He feels weirdly more exposed like this, even though his cock is now trapped underneath him. He can't see Harry or Louis anymore with his face pressed into the pillow, but he can feel their eyes on him.

"So pretty, isn't he?" Harry asks Louis softly, and then one of them is touching George, hand spread out over one of his arse-cheeks, rubbing over it thoughtfully.

"Gorgeous," Louis agrees. "He was begging for your cock before you got here; you should've heard, it was lovely. He's so sweet."

"Well, I don't want to disappoint him." George feels a second hand come up to spread him open and he pushes his face harder into the pillows, biting down on the pillowcase just to have something in his mouth.

Louis laughs quietly, and George feels a dip on his side of the bed as he assumes Louis settles down beside them. "Look at me, Georgie," Louis instructs.

George relinquishes the pillow and turns his cheek to peer blearily at Louis. Louis smiles at him gently and taps his fingertips over George's mouth.

"D'you want these?" 

George nods and moans a little when Harry's breath puffs over his skin.

"Open up," Louis murmurs, and George drops his lips open, tongue pushed out just enough to show Louis that it's wet. Louis presses the tip of his index finger into George's mouth and George wraps his lips around it to suck, humming gratefully.

"That's right," whispers Louis. George's mouth falls open a little when Harry hitches his hips up a little and kisses the base of his spine. Louis had done this to George the last time, and Harry's more of a tease about it, breathing over George's hole and letting the tip of his tongue flick out lightly over him.

Louis' free hand scrubs through George's hair. "Doing alright, love?"

George makes a quiet, encouraging sound, sucking harder on Louis' finger. He does so love sucking on things, and if he can't have a cock in his mouth, a finger is better than nothing.

He bites down a bit on Louis' fingertip when Harry takes the first long lick. Louis squeaks in surprise at that and laughs _cheeky_ under his breath.

It's hard to breathe through his nose, but George knows if he tries to breathe through his mouth and suck at the same time he'll just end up drooling everywhere. Harry's tongue is fucking amazing and George is trying to focus on Louis but it's hard when he just feels so _good_.

Harry's hands wrap around George's hips and lift him up towards his mouth, holding him so he can't move.

He wants to move, too, back into Harry's mouth, but Harry's strong and George has to suck hard on Louis' finger to keep from whining. Louis taps the corner of George's mouth with a second finger and slowly slips it in alongside the first, letting George suck on both of them.

"You're such a good boy, George," Louis says. "I wish you could see your face right now, you're so pink and pretty."

Harry's tongue feels about two feet long as he begins to work it inside George, and George's breath catches in a moan around Louis' fingers.

"You like that?" Louis asks. "I do, I love it when he licks me out. Harry's good, isn't he? Like you?"

"S'goo'," George slurs, feeling sluggish and glorious and taken care of. He tries again to grind backwards and Harry's still too strong. "P'ease."

"Don't come, George," Louis warns. He pushes his fingers down against George's tongue so he's helpless. "Do not come from this."

George gives Louis' fingers another suck, meeting his eyes. He wants to come, can feel the pull of it in his belly, but if Louis says not to, then he won't.

"D'you want a cock ring again?" Louis asks. "Do you think you need one? I'll be upset if you come already, George."

"No," George mumbles around the fingers. "No, 'm good, being good." It sounds garbled but he hopes Louis understands because he doesn't want that again, not that feeling of needing to come so desperately that it hurts.

Louis' hand smooths through George's hair again and he hums. "You try so hard. It's so lovely."

George wants to press into Louis' hand but he'll lose the fingers in his mouth if he does, and he doesn't want that. He groans as Harry bites into his arsecheek lightly before returning to his hole and licking back into him.

"That's enough, Harry," Louis says then, and Harry moves away, kissing the round of George's bum before the heat of him is gone and George whimpers again, frustrated because _he wants Harry_. Louis pets through George's hair again. "Give me back my fingers, love, and turn over so Harry can see your face."

George doesn't really want to give Louis' fingers back and have his mouth empty again, but he does, and flops over onto his back. His limbs feel all noodley, and he's not sure he could get more relaxed than he is.

Harry is already squeezing lube onto two of his fingers. He smiles at George, though, and George feels hot at how red and used Harry's mouth looks.

"Want you so much," he tells Harry. It's obvious, he thinks, in how hard he is and how flushed he feels he must be, but it's probably nice to hear.

"I'm glad," Harry says, and he laughs a little. "Do you think you could take two fingers right away or do you want to start slow?"

George wriggles his hips a little. He feels loose and relaxed. "Two is good," he says, smiling at Harry. "Please? I want to feel it."

Harry nods and strokes his fingertips over where George is still wet from Harry's mouth. "Tell me to stop if it hurts too much."

"Yes," George agrees. He likes a burn, but if it hurts he knows they'll be more pleased if he tells them than if he keeps it to himself.

"Good," Harry praises him, and pushes in with two fingers. It _is_ tighter this way, even though George has been stretched a bit with Harry's tongue, but it's bearable.

Harry does go a bit more slowly, George thinks, but he expected him to. Harry does a lot of things slowly. George sighs and lets his legs fall apart a little more to give Harry room.

Louis touches George's arms and rubs over the thin beginnings of biceps that George is rather proud of, actually. "D'you want me to hold you down?"

"Please," says George eagerly, holding his arms up for Louis to grasp. "Please, yes."

"Okay, love, just relax." Louis gathers George's forearms in his hands and pushes them down against the mattress; George wraps his fingers around Louis' wrists where they cross with his own and Louis smiles a bit.

George feels more grounded with Louis holding him down, and he grins up at him as Harry's fingers curl inside him.

George remembers how much it hurts -- in a bad way -- when Harry doesn't take the time to get George loose and ready with enough fingers, but he's impatient away, bucking down into Harry's hand to try and speed up the process.

"Not too fast," Louis whispers to him, squeezing George's arms. "Let Harry get you ready. Let him take care of you."

George's eyes flutter closed and he nods, panting out a low moan as Harry curls his fingers just right. There's a brush of Louis' stubble on the side of George's face as he leans down to nuzzle at George's neck, biting into the dark bruise he'd left, and the feel and smell of him so close was overpowering.

"That's good, George, that's very good." Louis' voice is soft and soothing, his mouth so close to George's skin that he can feel Louis' breath and he wants more, so much more. 

Harry slowly teases the tip of another finger at George's hole, slick and stroking, and George wants it. He wants everything.

He only realizes that he's chanting _please please please_ when he has to stop because Harry's other hand's thumb is pressing its way into George's mouth.

He groans happily and sucks, hard enough that he can feel his cheeks hollowing. George hadn't realized how much he was missing something in his mouth, but he had, and it gives him something to focus on more than how much he wants to come.

"That's good, George." Louis pets George's hair back from his face. "You can wait to come, right? Until I tell you?"

George mumbles a yes around Harry's thumb, his eyes drifting closed. _Don'tDon'tDon'tDon't_ , he chants in his head.

Harry rubs small circles into the curve of George's jaw with the tip of his smallest finger. "Relax, George, you're all tense. What's your color?"

Colors, George knows colors. "Green," he answers, mouthing around the base of Harry's thumb.

"Open your eyes, please, George," Harry requests, and it takes a long minute for George to tell his eyes to listen, but they do, they open, and there's Harry leaning down over him to study how black and blown-out George's pupils. "Can you relax a bit?"

George takes a deep, shuddering breath, and relaxes as much as he can without letting go. _Don't come_ , he firmly reminds himself. Louis will be upset if he does, and he doesn't want Louis to be upset.

Louis squeezes George's forearms sharply, and the sudden pain of it is enough to stave off the need.

George's mouth falls open a little and Harry's thumb drags wetly across his cheek, but George just ducks his head to find it with his lips again. He's breathing heavily but he's more relaxed than he was, and Harry makes an appreciative noise as he squirms the third finger in.

"I don't even understand how good you look like this," Harry mutters. "It's like you were made for it."

Maybe he was, George thinks, maybe he was made to do this for Louis and Harry, to let them use him for this. It's a nice thought. He makes a soft noise and tries to ride down on Harry's fingers. He wants Harry inside him _now_ , wants to feel owned and wanted and made for them.

"Almost, it's almost time," Harry says, and then he's kissing his way back down George's body again to lick in alongside his fingers, slicking up the way for a fourth.

It feels obscenely good, and George squeezes Louis' wrists as well as he can, his hips jerking even as he makes a concentrated effort to keep them to the bed.

He gasps a little when Harry edges his fourth finger inside, tucked up tightly, and slowly, slowly spreads his fingers out flat; George feels so open and and so exposed like this that he has to bite his lips to keep from blurting out half-words.

"How does that feel, George?" Louis asks him, his voice low in George's ear. "Tell Harry how good he's making you feel."

George shakes his head a little at that and wishes Harry's thumb were still in his mouth, anything to press the shapes of his words into since he can't get them past his lips.

He looks up at Louis with desperate, huge eyes and whimpers a little, nosing up to try to get into the long curve of Louis' neck to bury his face.

"Shh, I know you can," Louis soothes, nuzzling into George's throat. "I know you can do it. Just tell him, love, tell him how good he's doing. How good you feel."

George turns his face into Louis' shoulder. "Luvvit," he whispers finally. "More -- please?"

"Good boy, such a good boy," Louis says to him, then, louder, "Is he ready, do you think?"

There's no sound, and George's face is still tucked into Louis' neck, but then Harry's fingers are gone and the blunt head of his cock is nudging at George, easing its way inside, and George lets out a broken groan at that, struggling against Louis' arms.

Louis keeps his word, though, and holds him down tight.

"Looks like it feels amazing," whispers Louis, hushed next to George's ear. "He's stretching you so much, his cock, so big, isn't it? So big inside you, babe. You love it, don't you?"

"Uh-huh." George bites at Louis' neck -- but Louis backs off, lets go of his arms even, and George whimpers.

"It's alright," Harry assures him, "I've got you. We're gonna put on a show for Louis, okay, and show him just how good we are."

George likes the thought of showing off for Louis, and he likes even better the thought of showing off with Harry inside him. He nods quickly, though he misses the feeling of being restrained.

Harry keeps holding George's hips, tilting them how he needs, until he's all the way inside George, their thighs flush together. He holds up his hands and asks, quietly, "I'm going to hold you down while I fuck you. Is that alright?"

"Yes, please," pants George, eager for it. He loves being held down while he's fucked, and Harry's hands are so big he could keep George down so easily.

Harry's hands are so gentle as they skim their way up George's belly and sides that George feels a little like he's melting, and then Harry's fingers are curled around George's elbows.

"Tighter, please," he whispers, and Harry's grip tightens accordingly, enough that George can feel the twinge of it all the way up his arms and knows he'll have a brand new set of bruises to savor in the morning.

Harry bends to nuzzle at George's neck. George sighs and wraps his legs around Harry's hips, pulling him in closer.

"My gorgeous boys," says Louis fondly from beside them. He's lazily touching himself when George looks, not stroking but teasing with his fingertips. "He's so good, isn't he, Harry? I can't wait to see for myself."

Harry eases back and George can feel every inch of the drag, slow and teasing, just once before slamming back inside and making George cry out. Harry fucks hard but evenly, slow enough that George can feel just how big he is, touching everything inside him on every stroke.

"You'll love it, Lou," Harry says. He bites down on George's collarbone. "He's so good at getting fucked, George is."

"Looks fantastic." Louis sounds slightly predatory and George shudders, reminding himself that he can't come yet, he can't, he can't. But Harry's cock feels so big and thick and hard inside him and George _wants_ so desperately.

Harry lifts his head and nods. He pulls George's arms up so they're stretched over George's head, his whole body lengthy and thin and pale beneath the broad bulk of Harry, and he gathers both of George's forearms into one hand to press against the pillows. He grasps George's thigh with the other hand and opens the hold George has around Harry's hips so Louis can see everything, every thrust into George's body and out again.

It feels much more intense this way, knowing that Louis can see how much Harry is stretching him, and how deep he's fucking into George. George groans so loudly his throat burns a little and arches his back to feel as much of Harry as he possible can.

"That's really good, George," Louis encourages. His eyes gleam. "Harry -- keep still a minute so George can fuck himself on your cock. Show us how much you want it, George, there's a good boy."

George takes a moment to breathe, and then moves as well as he can, rocking his hips down onto Harry. He can feel sweat dripping into his eyes so he closes them, focusing on getting as much of Harry's dick inside him as he possibly can. 

The angle isn't quite right, and he can't move to flip Harry over and ride him. George scrabbles beneath him; his knees and thighs and feet and ankles all he has to try and anchor himself on Harry and pull himself up enough to fuck onto him how he wants.

"He's trying so hard," Harry grunts, his arm shaking a little as he keeps still. "Oh, Lou, he wants it so much."

"Good." Louis' hand makes a wet sound as he moves it over himself. "Make him work for it."

"Just like that, George." Harry's voice is strained, but encouraging. "Good boy, you're so good for us, so good."

George's muscles are beginning to ache, and even then, he knows he can't stop, has to work up against Harry and get him in deep as he can.

The good thing about this position is that he knows he won't come -- not if he has to chase it himself. He wants Harry to _make_ him come.

Harry's fingers are steadily tightening in his grip on George's hands, and George has to think this is hard for him as well, to keep still instead of fucking George like he wants to.

Louis stops touching himself at that, and George thinks wildly that maybe this isn't easy for him, either, not really.

Louis' hands push through Harry's damp hair, holding it back from his face.

"Thanks," Harry says, his voice quiet and it sounds wrecked and George thinks, _I did that to him, me_.

"George?" Louis asks lightly, "D'you think Harry deserves to fuck you properly? Do you think he can do it right?"

George's mouth opens and closes for a moment without sound escaping, because he can't quite catch his breath. "I -- I -- yes," he finally manages, "Yes, I -- please, I need -- please?"

"Not what you need," Louis corrects him. "For Harry. Does _Harry_ deserve it?"

"What -- Whatever he wants, I -- Please?" George feels alight with desperation, like he's burning up from the inside out.

"Don't think he can choose, Lou," Harry murmurs. "Not when he's like this."

George tries to nod and agree, but then thinks maybe he should shake his head, no, he can't, he can't choose like this and he doesn't _want_ to be the one making choices. He wants to be done to, not to do.

"Shh, it's okay," Louis says to George, one of his hands still curled into Harry's hair to keep it out of his eyes and the other gently touching the center of George's chest. "You've been doing so well, George. Tell Harry you want him to fuck you."

"Please fuck me," George blurts. "Please, I want it, Harry, please?"

"You heard him." Louis lowers his voice. "Fuck him, Harry."

Harry pulls all the way out in a long stroke and George whimpers, but Harry just roughly changes the angle of George's hips with one hand so he can slam back in and set a quick, deep pace, the fat head of his dick deep inside teasing everything right and just a twinge wrong, hurting just the way George dreams about when he's wanking himself off in the shower.

"You look so good when you're getting fucked, George," Louis says to him, his hand stroking down the long slope of Harry's spine. "You look perfect."

George smiles a little at that, but it's too much effort to keep it up. Louis' hand rests over the end of Harry's spine like he's keeping time on how fast and how deep the thrusts get.

"Do you feel like you might come, George?" Louis murmurs, his eyes dark and curious as they sweep over George like he's claiming him with his gaze.

George nods quickly and his back arches up against Harry's hold.

"What do you think, Harry? Does _he_ deserve it?" Louis' mouth is close to Harry's ear, but his voice is pitched so that George can still hear.

"I want to fill him up first," Harry says. His eyes are dark. "And then he can come."

"Perfect." Louis nudges his nose against Harry's neck, and George thinks he might kiss him there, but he can't tell. "My perfect boys, putting on such a good show for me."

George can't make a sound, not even a whimper, as Harry bears down over him.

Harry doesn't hold back at all now, his hips snapping in a fast pace, hard and deep, and it's so much George can't handle it but he has to because he can't come, not yet.

He doesn't think he can help it, though; it's welling up too sharply, too good.

"I ca -- I can't," he sobs, and then he's coming wet all over his belly and Harry's.

He's breathing heavily and choking on it because he did what Louis told him not to and that's bad, he's so bad, he's not a good boy at all right now. Harry's stopped moving so quickly inside him, instead rocking his hips gently as George shivers from nerves and aftershocks.

"George." Louis' voice is very quiet. "What's your color?"

"I'm sorry," George blurts. He can feel panic welling up and he tries to quell it but it's hard when he knows he's been bad.

"It's alright, George, we're not angry," Louis promises. His hands are soft and cool on the sides of George's face. "What's your color?"

"I -- I'm, yellow," George chokes out, because Louis isn't angry but there are emotions clawing up George's throat and he's disappointed them, he knows he has.

"Okay." Louis keeps stroking the side of George's face gently and George wants to nuzzle into it but he's -- anxious. "Do you want Harry to stay inside or to stop?"

It feels just on the edge of too much when he's still so oversensitive from coming, but he doesn't want Harry to leave him empty, not now, not when he feels so much like he's done wrong. He wants to make Harry feel good, and make up for it. "Inside," he says quietly.

Harry shakes his head minutely at Louis and bends down to kiss gently at George's neck and the corner of his mouth. "Because you want it, or because you think I want it?"

"Need -- Need to make you feel good," George says, shivers still rolling down his spine. "I didn't do it right and I -- need to be good for you."

"Okay," Harry whispers. "You are, George. Even if we stop and wait a bit, that's okay. You're still good for me."

"But you said, and I didn't," George says back, dazed and he feels cold, and he just wants to be good. "I wasn't good."

"You're still learning," Harry murmurs.

"If you don't feel safe, we're not continuing," Louis says. He gently tilts George's face so they can look into each other's eyes, and Louis' are searching.

George blinks once, then again to clear the blurriness from his eyes, and he takes a shuddering breath. "Always safe with you," he says very quietly.

"Okay," Louis whispers. He smiles a little at that and kisses George's forehead. Then he says, "Keep on, Harry. I'll watch him."

"You're sure?" Harry bites his lip as he slowly, very slowly eases out of George, and then back in. George can feel Harry's thighs trembling with the strain of going so slow.

George looks up at Louis, but Louis shakes his head. "You're the only one who can answer him, Georgie."

He looks back to Harry, Harry with his brow furrowed going so slow to keep George from getting overwhelmed, and he knows he can do this, he can make Harry feel good. "I can -- I can do it."

He thinks and shifts his hips a little. "I want to." He smiles at Harry as best he can and nods. "I want to, Harry."

"Good boy, very good," Harry mutters to him, speeding up just a little. He's still not going as hard as he was but George doesn't think he could take that, anyway, not while he's still so sensitive. As it is it's like he can feel every inch of Harry's cock as it slides into him, and again when Harry retracts his hips.

And it's _amazing_ , he thinks, he can feel Harry growing inside him, gone a little soft while they were talking and now he isn't anymore, because George feels good for him, is making him hard again. George clicks down into that softly floating space harder, like all he can see is Harry's silhouette because what matters most is working his hips just right with Harry's thrusts to make him come, make him feel even _better_.

Louis' fingers are sliding through the slick mess on George's stomach, drawing patterns and shapes as Harry fucks George harder, his rhythm becoming jerky as he looks down into George's face.

"So good," Harry grunts, and he nods at George. "You're still so good for us."

Wet fingers press to George's lips and he parts them automatically, letting Louis' fingers inside and tasting himself, bitter and salty on Louis' skin. Louis doesn't push them in too far, just letting George lick and suck while Harry fucks him.

He's grateful that they aren't angry, and he doesn't know any way to show it other than to try to be _better_.

"Close," rumbles Harry, his voice gone deeper and thick with want. "He's being so good for us."

"Whenever you're ready," Louis says, and he brushes through Harry's hair with his free hand again. "Come when you want."

Harry groans and shoves deep into George, staying there and lowering his head as he comes. George can feel it, all wet and hot inside him, and he smiles around Louis' fingers. He did miss this feeling, like being branded and marked and owned.

"That's good, Harry," Louis praises quietly. "Plug him up when you're ready and start getting hard for me. Show George how good he can learn to be if he tries hard."

George can only understand about a third of what Louis' said, but he feels so empty when Harry pulls out and he whines, grabbing for Louis. He gasps, though, when he feels a nudge at his hole, familiar but not Harry, or Louis. 

"Just plugging you up to keep me inside for a bit, Georgie," Harry says, his words all a little raspy. He twists his hand a little and George's mouth opens on a silent moan as what he now knows to be that matching plug they've got slips securely into place.

"I know it's a lot, George," Louis says. "But you didn't listen, did you?"

George shakes his head ruefully.

"Can you keep from coming while you watch Harry and me, or do you need a ring, too?"

George feels like it'll be a bit difficult to get hard ever again, even if he knows he will. "I can do it," he says faintly, shifting his hips and gasping as he feels the plug move inside him.

Louis levels him with a hard look. "If you come again before I get to fuck you, we're going to have to talk about other kinds of punishment."

"I can, I can do it," George insists. He doesn't want the ring, not at all. "I promise, I'll be good."

Louis runs his hand soothingly over George's belly and hums. "Alright. If you decide you want it, it's in the drawer. But I want you to watch Harry now, see how well he listens to me. He has so much control, look?"

George would have looked at Harry anyway, his eyes drawn there by how Harry is staying perfectly still, on his knees with his hands at his sides but his cock already twitching, beginning to fill up again.

His eyes are shut, his lips just parted, his back straight. George can see the smooth working of Harry's abs beneath his skin, the slight tremor in his thigh, but Harry doesn't touch himself, doesn't make a sound.

"You'll be able to do this for us, George," Louis says softly. "You're still learning, now. Harry's so good for me, see how hard he's gotten again, already? He's been trained so well."

"Can you do it?" George asks Louis curiously. His eyes never leave Harry.

"Not as quickly as Harry can." Louis sounds affectionate, and proud. "Harry's been working so hard at it for me."

"I want to do it," George asks. "I can do it for you."

"I know you will," Louis says firmly. "You'll be able to do it perfectly for me. You're so good at following instructions, usually. You want to be so good, don't you?"

George nods and his eyes feel a little wet. "I'm sorry I couldn't help it."

"I know you are, George," Louis says, rubbing George's leg gently. "I know, you tried so hard, I just pushed you a little too far. We're not mad at you. You did as well as you could. You'll be able to take more eventually."

"I'm just used to quick," George mumbles. "'S embarrassing."

"Hey." Louis squeezes George's thigh lightly. "Hey, gorgeous, don't be embarrassed. You couldn't help yourself, Harry's cock is just too much." He's teasing gently, his voice soft. "You're still a good boy."

George nods, and shifts a little so he can see Harry a little better. The toy shifts inside him, and he's already so sensitive from coming and full from Harry's come that it makes him groan.

"Can you feel Harry in you, still?" Louis asks in a whisper, his fingers trailing across George's back to just above the curve of his bum. "All wet and dripping inside you?"

George nods. "A lot."

"Does it feel good, babe?"

George doesn't know if it feels _good_ , exactly, but, "I like it," he says. "I can feel it a lot."

"Maybe we'll do it again sometime, in the morning, make you go the whole day with us inside you making you all messy and dirty." Louis lowers his voice. "Make you go to rehearsals and smile and dance around, shake your arse when it's all full of our come."

George flushes all the way to his toes at that, curling them in the sheet. Louis laughs softly and scrubs his fingers through George's hair.

"Harry," Louis says more loudly, kissing George's head and then moving away. He digs into the mussed bedsheets and comes up with the discarded tube of slick, handing it off to Harry. "Just where you are is perfect, love," he mumbles, arranging himself on his knees near the top of the bed.

George tilts his head, watching. Louis looks good like that, on his hands and knees. All of the lines of his body are put together perfectly, round arse and strong thighs and arched, brown back.

Harry doesn't seem to need further instruction, silently slicking up his fingers and, with his other hand, rubbing along the line of Louis' back. Louis spreads his legs a little more and muffles a groan as Harry works two fingers into him, just like he'd done with George only Louis is obviously more used to it than George was, his shoulders all relaxed and his face calm.

Louis doesn't move much, doesn't give Harry as much instruction as he gives George, or even Harry when he's with George. It's clear that Harry knows exactly what to do to make Louis feel best.

The only thing Louis says while Harry's fingers are in him is, once, "One more," before Harry adds a third finger, rocking them in deep and thick inside Louis.

George likes watching them together. They're beautiful, for one thing, and for another -- in this, like this, when Harry isn't performing his submissive role, but still defers to Louis -- they're equal in a breathtaking sort of way that George hadn't really thought was possible, like Harry gives up some of his control to Louis just because that's how they're built and not because he can't not. Even bent over Louis, even bigger than Louis, Harry gives him the reins.

"Now," Louis instructs, his hands curling into fists against the pillows, his head dropping so that his chin nearly touches his chest. It's amazing how even in this, the most submissive position George can think of, Louis exudes power and dominance, the lines of his body strong as he waits for Harry.

Harry's eyes shut briefly as he slicks up his cock, and George thinks he must be so sensitive that it hurts -- he shouldn't even be hard again yet, but he's so good for Louis. George wants that.

He'll have it, too, according to Louis, and George believes him because he'd learn anything to be good for Louis. Even this, how Harry's breath catches and stutters as he guides himself into Louis, so hard so soon that it hurts, George _wants_ that, to be so good for Louis that nothing else matters but pleasing him.

He's curled up on his side on the bed, ear pressed to the pillow as he watches them; the toy inside him is pressing insistently and he knows that if he moves, it will rub and tease and he'll start getting hard again, too, but Louis hasn't said that's okay.

George is so determined now to be good like he wasn't before. Even now, watching the way Louis grits his teeth and makes quiet encouraging noises that sound like _yesyesyes_ , George is trying so hard to stay still and be good.

Harry is staying nearly still, bent to wrap around Louis and brace his arms on the bed, while Louis works back on him in rolling bumps back so his arse can take Harry in hard over and over, fast enough that George can hear their skin slapping together.

The way Louis is doing it makes it look so easy, the way he's controlling the pace even while Harry's hovering over him all broad and muscled, making Louis look smaller and almost delicate underneath him. 

Harry's biting his lip again, hard enough it looks like it hurts but he's not moving except occasional little twitches of his hips like he can't help it.

"Harry," Louis huffs sharply, "When I tell you, come. I'm not yet; I'm saving that for George."

George moans a little at that and sucks on his own lower lip.

Harry makes a little noise as well, affirmation or understanding or something, and he keeps himself in place for Louis, veins showing in his arms where he's straining to keep them still as well.

Louis keeps working himself on Harry's cock until Harry makes an involuntary little sound under his breath.

Apparently, it means something to Louis, because he says, "Not inside," after a moment and stops moving almost entirely.

Harry straightens up a bit, kneeling behind Louis, and even in the size of his hand, his cock looks enormous with fingers wrapped around it.

George doesn't think he could stay as still as Louis is with Harry so close, but he's willing to try, willing to learn from them how to do what they can. As he watches, Harry gives himself another firm stroke, and then another, and then he comes, his release painting Louis' lower back while Harry nearly wheezes.

It drips a little, sticky, as Louis straightens up and tilts his head so he can kiss the underside of Harry's jaw in thanks.

"Wonderful as always, babe," Louis murmurs against Harry's skin, mouthing a kiss to his neck before he turns to George. Louis is flushed red down his chest now, his eyes bright and his cock standing hard against his belly.

George whimpers a little, looking at it. He licks his lips. He wants to suck it, loves sucking Louis' cock, loves Harry's, too, but it looks so pink and overstimulated now that it would hurt him and he doesn't want that at all.

"Come here, George," Louis tells him. "On your back and spread your legs for me, love."

George crawls across the bed, and Louis purrs appreciatively at that.

"That's pretty," he murmurs. "Maybe one day when you're here you won't be allowed to walk at all. Just crawl for us, cute little arse in the air and a plug keeping you open so we can fuck you whenever we want. I think I like that idea a lot."

George likes that idea a lot, too, and his cock thickens up a little more as he thinks about it, letting them use him, his only purpose making them happy. He'd be good at that, he thinks.

He nods, and Louis pets him with steady, calming hands. "Come on, love, lie down for me."

George reclines on his back, the plug shifting again inside him and he can't hold back a moan, his legs spreading hopefully.

"That's right," Louis promises. He taps at the base with his thumb and it bump-bump-bumps the toy up inside George, pushing the fat head of it in all the best places and making George's cock blurt a tiny dab of precome onto his sticky belly. "Maybe I won't fuck you at all yet, maybe I'll make you come on your toy and then fuck you until you come again and there's nothing left in you to come out. D'you think I should do that, George?"

George doesn't know if he could, but he'll try if Louis wants him to. "If you want me to," he breathes, his hips grinding up into air. "I will, you can."

Louis bends down and breathes a warm rush of air over the sensitive head of George's cock as he carefully, slowly eases the toy out of him. "Not today."

George has to grab at the sheets or he thinks he'll claw his own face off, the fat head of the plug catching on his rim before it's all the way out and he's left bearing down on nothing, feeling damp and empty and open.

There's a wet sloppiness that reminds George anew that Harry's come is inside him, and he feels more open and vulnerable than ever.

Louis keeps one hand rubbing lightly over George's belly as he slicks hip his cock thinly with lube, George still open and ready enough without any fingers.

"You're going to love this," Louis informs him with an undertone to his voice that's something like smugness just before he presses forward in a roll of his hips that fucks his cock deep into George in just one movement.

George cries out a little, his hands covering Louis' hips. No one moves to hold him down this time, and Louis hasn't told him not to move, so it must be okay. He wants to touch Louis, this time. He wants to feel all over his skin and figure out how he's real.

Louis moves in slow undulations of his hips. Everything he does tends to remind George of some sort of wild animal, a panther or a tiger or something, his every movement calculated and deliberate, smooth. He isn't going quickly, or slowly, just at the right pace for George to feel it without him being overwhelmed.

He knows that Louis doesn't do this much, and he'd've thought that it was because Harry didn't like being filled if George hadn't fucked Harry himself, hadn't watched him _love_ it before. It's something about Louis, then, something Louis doesn't give all the time -- even to Harry -- and something about that makes a rose of heat curl in George's belly and he whispers,

"Thank you."

A smile blooms on Louis' face that makes George feel like he's been really, really good. "You're welcome, darling," Louis huffs at him, punctuating this with a particularly forceful thrust. "You're being so good."

George nods and lets one hand trail tentatively over the swell of Louis' arse, his fingertips finding where Harry is still leaking out of Louis and stroking there.

Louis laughs and it sounds exhilarated. "Curious George," he whispers, one hand rubbing George's belly as he shifts all his weight to balance on the other.

"You can touch."

George bites his lip and prods lightly at the stretched-out rim of Louis, feeling all the slickness there. His fingertip tucks in so easily, and he knows that he'll be even easier, looser, when Louis' done with him. 

A little blue memory fizzles into his brain through the golden-white fog. "Harry said... 's'nice to lick it from you."

"He loves it," Louis agrees, the blue of his eyes nearly overtaken by black. "Would you like to do that? Or do you want him to lick you out, after I've come in you so it's both of us?"

George whimpers a little at that and feels his cock kick out more precome, threatening to come again before Louis' said that it's alright. 

"Wanna keep you in me," George mumbles. "Don't know."

Louis changes his angle a little, just enough to make George gasp. "One or the other, Georgie," he murmurs. "Pick one now and we'll do the other next time we see you, promise."

"I want -- there's so much?" George asks, and tucks one of his legs up, knee pressed along Louis’ side. "I wanna keep it in me."

"Then you can keep it in you," Louis assures him, laughing a little. "Harry can eat you out next time, can't you, Harry?"

Harry makes a little noise from behind Louis, sort of a happy grumble. It makes George smile, whatever it is, and he smudges his face into Louis' chest.

"I want you to come after me this time, George," Louis whispers to him. "Do you think you can do that for me? Make up for before?"

George nods. His hair is sweaty and flops into his eyes. "I can, yeah, I promise."

"Good boy, such a very good boy." Louis kisses George's nose, so unexpectedly tender that it makes George's chest feel tight.

George nods again, whimpering, and his mouth feels cold without being able to kiss Louis right now.

Louis nearly growls, moving a little faster. "You're going to be so full, George," he sighs. "So full of us, because you're ours."

"Yeah," George agrees. "Like being yours."

Louis' next breath comes out on a groan, his hips snapping forward and staying there, and George feels more wet warmth inside him, joining Harry's.

And he _does_ feel full. When Louis pulls back, George's hand flits over his own belly like he expects to be able to feel a difference there -- instead his fingers just bump up against his cock and he moans softly.

Louis is breathing like he's just run a marathon, but he wraps one hand around George's cock and fits two fingers of his other hand into where George is stretched open wet and dripping.

"Oh, god," George whispers, and his back arches. That's all it takes for him to come, a weaker spurt up through Louis' fingers but enough power tightening his muscles that he shivers and quakes.

"Good," Louis whispers to him through it, keeping his hand loosely around George's cock as his fingers feel deep inside him. "So wet, George, you're so full."

Louis doesn't turn his head, keeping a careful eye on George's face as he asks, "Harry, can you come here and feel this?"

The bed shifts a little as Harry moves, and then there are two more fingers tucked beside Louis' inside George. He feels so full and then fuller, hot and wet and shivering.

"Oh, wow," says Harry. He sounds awed, a little, and George is proud that it's because of him. "Oh, that's us, Lou."

George feels far away as he watches Louis' lips trail over Harry's cheek.

"Ours," Louis says quietly, nuzzling against Harry's temple. "He's all ours, Harry."

Harry nods. His green eyes flash when he looks down at George, and George thinks he might smile at Harry. He can't be sure.

"Ask him," Harry murmurs. "Bring up a bit and ask him, Lou. Please, before we leave."

"Alright, bossy," says Louis, a smile at the very edges of his lips. He rubs George's stomach gently, lowering his voice. "You're still floating, aren't you, George? Good-fuzzy?"

George probably nods. He can feel their fingers in him, Louis' hand on his belly, so much come slip-sliding around on him and in him and he's never been so dirty.

"We want to ask you something, but we can't while you're still under, babe," Louis tells him, his fingers moving a little deeper and then slipping out as he sighs with what sounds like regret. "I need you to come up a little for me. Do you think you'll be able to do that?"

George blinks at him. That's so many words; it takes a minute for them to filter through to where he can think, and then another to decide. He nods, biting his tongue a little in concentration.

"Good boy," Louis praises, reaching around and wiping off his back with the corner of Harry's duvet. Harry gives him a look that's equally reproachful and amused, and Louis just shrugs.

Louis curls his knees up to his chest and sits like Peter Pan, staring down at George, looking a perplexed. "I do need to be better at bringing him up, don't I?" he mutters. "Harry, can you get me a warm flannel and a glass of water?"

Harry makes an agreeable noise, unfolding his legs to slip off the bed and stride with a slightly wobbly gait to the door.

George whimpers a bit, just because he's colder without Harry and Louis wrapped around him, and Louis reaches down to stroke George's cheek fondly.

"How're you doing, love?" Louis asks him quietly. "It's a good question, at least I think it is. Just need your wits about you."

George nuzzles at Louis' wrist. "Can I have a kiss now?"

Louis smiles gently at him and leans down. "Cute," he says before he kisses George, a light press of his lips.

George follows Louis' lips greedily when Louis pulls back. "More, please."

"Greedy." Louis kisses the corner of George's mouth, this time a deliberate tease. "How far under are you? Can you think yet for me?"

George tries, and _yes, of course_ tumbles into his head, so he nods.

Harry comes back with the flannel and sets to wiping up Louis' back first, then George's belly.

There's a frown lurking around Louis' mouth, and he speaks again. "I'll rephrase, can you think for yourself, yet?"

George shrugs a little. He still feels fuzzy, but the kiss helped and the vigorous rub-down from Harry. "I can think. Can I have more kisses?"

"One, and then we need to talk," says Louis. He touches his lips to George's and this time he doesn't hold back, his tongue hot and insistent as it strokes into George's mouth.

George moans a little into the kiss and threads his fingers through Louis' soft hair, clinging to him.

It ends far too soon for George's liking, with Louis having to nearly pry George off of him. "Quite enough of that," Louis mumbles, giving George a quick kiss to the head. "We really need to talk."

George sighs, and Harry helps him sit up a bit against the pillows, leaving one protective arm around George's waist. Harry kisses his forehead, too, and hands George the glass of water, which he takes gratefully.

"Drink, if you'd like to," Louis says, and George notices that he's being careful not to phrase anything too much like a command. "How do you feel?"

George nods around the rim of the glass and water dribbles down his chin. "Good."

"We can see that." Harry swipes a knuckle underneath George's jaw to keep him from dripping on himself. 

Louis kisses George's shoulder. "Can you look at me, please?" he requests. "When you've finished drinking."

George drains the glass and hands it back to Harry, then looks expectantly at Louis. His fringe is all in his eyes and he bats it away impatiently.

"Do you feel like yourself?" Louis searches George's eyes. "Are you still floating?"

George leans back into the curve of Harry's arm. "A little bit. I'm okay."

"Will you be able to answer questions for us honestly, do you think? You have to be sure about this, George." Louis looks very serious. "This is important."

The look on their face troubles him, and he knows he's already promised that what happened with Jaymi was a one-off mistake and that he isn't interested in Ella, and all of his tests came back clean, so he can't figure what would make Louis look so serious.

It does cause him to sober, any lingering giddiness vanishing as he nods. "I'm sure," he says, grabbing for Harry's hand without looking.

Harry's thumb rubs across George's knuckles. "It's a good thing, love. I think, anyway."

"We hope it is." Louis takes George's other hand, and inhales before letting it out in a sigh. "Alright. You know, you're ours? And that's why you've gotten those tests, and you're only being with us?"

George looks a little abashed at that, sure he's about to be chewed out again. "Yes. I am, really, I promise."

"We know, we believe you." Louis looks at Harry, and then back to George. "We trust you."

George smiles at that, and plays with the end of Harry's pinkie because it's there.

"We like you a lot, George, and we sort of -- We want you to be ours a bit, properly." Louis clears his throat. "If you wanted to be, you could. I'm rubbish at this."

"You probably haven't heard of it," Harry takes over seamlessly. "But, basically, it's a sort of thing where, er, if you wanted to, we were wondering if we could give you a collar?"

George frowns a little. "Like a dog?"

"No!" Harry and Louis both say loudly, so loudly it makes George jump.

"No," Louis repeats, his voice calmer. "No, not like a dog. We were afraid you'd think that, but not like a dog at all."

"It doesn't even have to go round your neck if you don't want," Harry tells him. "It's just something that would -- make you ours sort of officially. It's used to mark ownership, in a relationship between submissives and dominants."

Well, George likes that better. He isn't overly fond of things around his neck, if he's honest, and he probably couldn't wear it for the shows anyway. And he doesn't much fancy being led around like a dog.

"Like your tattoos?"

" _Yes_ , exactly like my tattoos." Harry looks pleased with his deduction. "Granted, those are a bit more permanent. We aren't asking you to tattoo our names on your bum, or anything."

"Oh," George says. "Everyone else in my band has tattoos. I think it's an inevitability, but I don't much like needles."

"Neither did I," murmurs Louis with a small smile on his face. "You can get whatever tattoos you want whenever you want them, okay? We're not asking you for that. We just want you to have something a bit more permanent than a bruise that you can look at when you need a reminder that you belong to us."

"In my skin?" George clarifies. "Like one of those scanning chips that will tell people I'm yours if they shine a blacklight on me?"

Louis blinks at him.

"Sorry," George mumbles, rubbing his eyes as Harry laughs. "I watch a lot of telly."

"Er -- No, not one of those, then." Louis is smiling faintly now too, looking at George like he thinks George is one of the most remarkable things he's ever seen.

George pushes his face into the curve under Harry's arm. It smells, a little, since they're all three sweaty and covered in filth, but he also still smells like Harry and that makes up for it.

"You don't have to say yes," Harry tells him, all soft and understanding. "It's -- a big step, kind of, and we'd get it if you didn't want to, yet. We just thought you might like it. Something so you know we want to keep you."

"No matter where we are," Louis adds, and taps a little piano pattern out on the keys of George's spine. "Or what we have to tweet. You could be ours, and we're proud of you."

George feels warm all over, inside and out, and he thinks that this is awfully close to something he's always wanted, this feeling of belonging and closeness. He can tell that if he blurts out an answer, they won't believe him, so he closes his eyes and tries to think of a reason he wouldn't want this.

There's the most obvious, that it would be something noticeable and humiliating, but if Harry and Louis have been living this way for years and no one's _really_ \-- because fanfiction isn't _really_ , it's not anything, there are even some about him and Josh -- then it must not be too obtrusive.

They've said it doesn't have to be around his neck, which is good, but he doesn't know what it does have to be, then, are they offering him a collar-anklet? He's not the vainest of people but he doesn't want to look like an idiot if he can help it.

"I like the idea of belonging to you," George hedges. "That sounds good."

"What don't you like?" Louis coaxes, still smiling and relaxed, and he doesn't look annoyed that George is taking so much time to answer. "You can be honest with us."

"I'm just worried about people -- thinking I'm weird?" George's face pinches. "And I don't want like, your fans to see it and get angry I'm trying to like, steal Harry or something, and then they don't vote for us and I ruin everything."

"How would they know?" Harry asks, frowning a little. "They'd have no way of knowing what it was unless you like, tweeted about it or something. It'd be inconspicuous; it's only meant for you to know what it is. Everyone else can fuck off."

George laughs at that. "Alright, if it's not like, a massive fuck-off leather mask or something, then yeah. Alright."

"We've got something already, we were a bit hopeful you'd say yes." Louis looks at Harry and then leans over, reaching into the drawer beside the bed and pulling something out. "If you don't like it, just say so, and we can get something else," he warns, his hand closed in a fist around whatever it is.

George's heart is beating fast and hard in his chest, and he would feel silly -- he isn't a sixth-form girl being asked to the leaver's prom -- if he couldn't feel Harry's heart going just as mad.

He doesn't know what he's expecting, but Louis' hand opens to reveal a bracelet, and it looks nothing like a collar. It's very plain, actually, with no distinguishing marks save for the fastener on the back of it, and the black color of it stands out against the gold tan of Louis' palm.

George bites his lip. 

"I know you're -- a little sensitive about your wrists, but, we thought like, this could be a sign on one of them that you're, you know, you're taken care of?" Louis fumbles. "And I saw you wear lots of bracelets anyway, and erm -- "

"I love it," George interrupts, though he'd sort of like Louis to ramble on forever. It seems like Louis isn't ever nervous or thrown off and this is the first time George can recall him _stammering_ of all things, and he loves the way it makes Louis seem a little more human.

"Yeah?" Louis' eyes light up.

"Yes, it's perfect." George has to smile, as Harry's arm tightens around him and Louis looks like he's about to start laughing out of sheer joy. This is because he's made them happy. Him agreeing to be theirs has made them this happy. He never thought -- George has never thought that anyone could be so happy just because they can say that he's theirs.

"It used to be mine," Harry supplies, his face buried in George's hair.

"I'm honored, then," replies George, lacing his fingers with Harry's as well as he can. "Can I wear it now? Or do I need to, like, is there some sort of ritual, do I need to drink chicken's blood, or anything?"

Louis shrugs. "I think that's a personal choice. I'd rather just get it on you and see how it looks, if I'm honest, but it's up to you."

"No, me too, please?" George leans forward a little, not enough to dislodge Harry's arm. "Which wrist?"

"Left," Harry says decisively. "Like my tattoos."

George holds his arm out, as steady as he can get it. It still shakes just a little as Louis undoes the fasten of the bracelet and slips it onto him.

It should just look like a bracelet, the kind he wears eight of every day.

But it doesn't, somehow.

"Gorgeous." Louis brings George's hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Earlier when Liam did it to Ella, it was charming and a little cheesy, but right now it nearly makes George swoon.

Harry bundles George up into his arms like he can't even contain himself, and he's somehow amazingly hard against George's hip like the sight of George wearing the bracelet, the idea of George being marked as theirs, is _just_ that overwhelming.

George blindly turns his head, searching for Harry's mouth with his own, the bracelet sliding down his arm just a little as he grabs Louis' hand.

Harry doesn't kiss back gently, tonguing right away into George's mouth and gathering him closer and closer.

Louis' touch is soft in contrast to Harry's and it drives George mad, the difference, as Louis' fingertips stroke over George's wrist, tucking lightly underneath the bracelet.

Louis wraps one arm around George's waist and Harry squeaks as Louis' knuckles knock up against his prick. 

Louis snuffles a happy laugh into the back of George's neck. "Help Harry out with that, Georgie."

This is an instruction George is overjoyed to follow, kissing Harry's mouth one more time before he squirms down the length of his body. He's a little hesitant, for a moment, because Harry's been inside him before this, but they've all been flanneled off and George wants something in his mouth _now_.

He nuzzles up against the base and is genuinely taken aback at how hard Harry is again.

George wonders if he'll be able to do this, too, eventually, get this hard a third time or maybe even a fourth, God, he doesn't know what's possible, even. Everything feels possible when he's with Harry and Louis.

George kisses and licks his way back up to the head of Harry's dick and sucks it into his mouth happily, humming and flicking his tongue across the slit.

"Oh, I've missed his mouth," he hears Harry say from above him as a hand curls into his hair. "He loves this so much, it makes him so happy."

George tries to nod around Harry's cock, but he's too busy easing it deeper into his mouth and all that happens is that it bumps lightly up against his teeth and Harry hisses.

"Gentle," Louis instructs, his hand on the back of George's neck. "You've made Harry so happy, you're making him feel so nice with your mouth, love."

George hums again in apology and sinks down further. Harry laughs breathlessly and pushes George's hair out of his face. "Tickles."

In the back of his mind, George wonders if this might be the happiest blowjob he's ever given. He wants to smile and Harry is smiling and laughing and he's looking at George like George has given him the greatest gift anyone could ever give.

It ruffles warm and soft in the back of George's mind that this is what sex is supposed to be, even with dominance and submission and a collar that's really a black bracelet; it's supposed to be happy and feel good and make him want more, more, more all the time just because it feels _right_.

"You always look so good with your mouth around a cock," Louis tells him, his fingers rubbing smooth patterns over George's neck and the top of his back. "I could watch you do this forever, you know."

George mumbles wordlessly and licks a long stripe up Harry's cock as he pops off the tip just long enough to take a good breath and a smudgy kiss to the ridge of the head before going back down, determined to take all of it even if it will wreck his throat the next day. He can deal with a sore throat.

" _Oh_ ," gasps Harry, his head falling back to expose the pale line of his neck. It looks perfect for marking up and George isn't surprised when he spies a fading red mark at the base of it near Harry's collarbone.

"Such a good boy, George," Louis murmurs, still rubbing George's back. "You're so eager. You love cock so much, don't you? Just want it in you all the time."

"Mm," George hums in agreement, his hand wrapped around the base and stroking up to meet his mouth. He's slowly taking it in, inch by inch, wanting so desperately to feel Harry all the way down his throat.

He doesn't even know whether Harry _can_ come again, but he wants to make him.

"That's good, just like that." Louis' other hand slides around to George's throat, feeling where he's swallowing rapidly around the length of Harry's cock. "Can you take it all? I don't think anyone ever has, have they, Harry?"

"Nnngh," Harry grunts.

"I can't do it," Louis mumbles. "Nearly, I can nearly, but then I start crying and I can't breathe and it's not pretty. You're very pretty George, just like this." His fingers rub gently over George's neck.

George is determined now, not to choke. He can do this for Harry, this thing that even Louis can't do. He takes in as deep a breath as he can through his nose and drops the last inch or so, and his eyes are watering something mad but he's _done_ it.

Almost immediately, he has to pull back or he'll probably die, but he did it and that's what counts.

He pulls up and coughs a little, blinking desperately, but he kisses and sucks and licks at the head while he's catching his breath and then he's back again, inching his way down until his nose is nestled up against the jumping muscles of Harry's belly.

"Oh my God oh my God," Harry is saying on a loop, keeping his hips very still, which George appreciates. He sounds a little strangled and his voice is higher than it usually is, which George also appreciates.

He pulls up and coughs a little, blinking desperately, but he kisses and sucks and licks at the head while he's catching his breath and then he's back again, inching his way down until his nose is nestled up against the jumping muscles of Harry's belly.

"Oh my God oh my God," Harry is saying on a loop, keeping his hips very still, which George appreciates. He sounds a little strangled and his voice is higher than it usually is, which George also appreciates.

It still isn't long before George has to pull up again to catch his breath, but it's worth it.

"I've never seen you that color," Louis is saying to Harry, his voice all rich amusement as George takes in air. "Looks good on you."

"I don't -- I think I might've come?" Harry sounds bewildered and as out of breath as George, totally overwhelmed. He sounds _wrecked_ , and George loves it. "I don't think I had any spunk left and I might've come anyway?"

Harry seems to be shivering now, and he's bright red, and when Louis touches the base of his cock he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"I reckon you might've," Louis sounds amazed and gentle and he leans over George's head to kiss Harry's shoulder. "D'you want George to keep going?"

"Can't -- Can't, I don't think," Harry coughs, slumped back against the headboard. "Moving. Hard. Hurts, a bit."

George frowns and looks up at Harry. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

He looks over at Louis beneath his wet eyelashes, all stuck together with runny tears.

"Good hurt," Harry assures, his voice gone soft and melty and he moves a clumsy hand to card through George's hair. "Lou, hug 'im or something."

Louis gathers George's jaw between his palms and tilts George's head up gently so look at Louis. George knows his nose is pink and his eyes are red-rimmed and wet and his mouth must look obscene.

"Look at you," Louis whispers. "That was amazing, George." He licks his lip and shifts where he's sitting. "Can I have one?"

"Yes," George says. He can never get enough of giving head. It makes him feel powerful even when he's on his belly or his knees. "Yes, please."

"Can you kneel at the bedside?" Louis brushes George's hair back from his face. "So I can see your face?"

George smiles and it burns a little, the stretch of his lips. He nuzzles into Louis' hand and then slides forward to get on his knees beside the bed.

"There's such a good boy." Louis settles his feet on the floor at either side of George, so he's all nested between Louis' knees and thighs. "I'm so glad you're ours, Georgie. Really."

"All yours," whispers George, nosing at Louis' inner thigh. He mouths a kiss to the base of him, and licks his way to the head. Louis isn't as big as Harry (George doesn't know if anybody is) but he's a good size, thick enough that George can feel another burn in his lips as they stretch around Louis' cock.

Louis' hand rests on George's head, petting through his hair, carefully combing out snarls when his fingers hit them. George hums happily, slurping down on Louis' dick so even Harry can hear it across the bed.

"Oh, my God," Harry groans faintly. "He's like -- a machine, or something, he's perfect. Louis," he whines like Louis will have an answer, "Louis, he's so perfect."

"Yeah, he is, perfect for us." Louis sounds a little raspy, rougher than usual, and George shivers with pleasure at it.

He knows he's good at this, and Harry's only just proved that, so he doesn't concern himself too much with fancy tricks. He's getting spit all down his chin and he doesn't even care because this is so good, he's being so good. Louis keeps making little happy sounds under his breath and they make George want to fly.

He pulls back just long enough to suck at the slit, licking in to get more salt-bitter taste because it's Louis and that means he likes it, before taking a breath and sinking down so that his nose is nuzzled against Louis' belly. It's easier than it was for Harry, but it'll still make his eyes red.

Louis is mumbling praise, still, quiet and overawed as Harry had been. He's stopped stroking George's hair and is instead touching the hollow of one of his cheeks, pressing into it until he can feel his own cock there in George's mouth.

"Oh -- jesus, _fuck_ ," Louis grunts, and his thumb pulls at George's lip. There's a second's warning, just a tensing of his stomach, and then George is coughing and spluttering, come all over his tongue and lips as he tries to breathe.

It takes a few gasping tries, and he coughs a little, but he manages to get air into his lungs after a moment, and Louis is laughing and apologizing as he pulls George up on top of him on the bed.

Louis cups his hand over the back of George's head and George wants to wipe off his face, but if he does, he'll just faceplant on Louis before he gets the chance. Besides the red eyes and nose, he can feel the wet slip of spit and come all down his chin and onto his neck, and he's embarrassed.

"Look at you," Louis murmurs, and he laughs quietly. "You're such a mess, George."

George smiles and huffs a little laugh at himself, self-conscious but aware of the slight weight on his left wrist. "Your mess?" he says hopefully.

"Yes," Harry agrees, and gallumphs across the bed. He kisses George's cheek, then licks George's lip just to make Louis wrinkle his nose. "You're our mess."

"Good," mumbles George, licking his own lips. They feel hot and slick and a little disgusting but he grins anyway. He belongs to someone. _Two someones_ , he amends.

He buries his face down in Louis' chest, never mind the mess, and feels Harry nuzzle his own curly head down over George's back, right where he'll be able to hear George's heart beating.

There are a million things George wants to say, some which don't matter at all and some which matter too much, but in the end he doesn't say any of them. He just sighs and closes his eyes, resting on the rise and fall of Louis' chest.

Harry smudges a light kiss just between George's shoulder blades, then nestles his head down again. Louis' hand comes up to card through Harry's hair, and George is completely sandwiched between them, skin and skin on skin.

It feels like he's never belonged anywhere else before and he's finally slotted into a space that is solely his. He doesn't know how Harry feels, or how Louis feels, but if neither of them make him move then he thinks he'd be quite content to just stay in this space for a long time.

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